


Almost Karma

by StarSongVII



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, BDSM, Cloud with people you may not know or want him with, Cultural Appropriation, F/M, Kink, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Rough Sex, Slow Build, Slut Shaming, Time Travel, Violence, possible triggers, tags will be updated as fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-09-11 15:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 252,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8995720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSongVII/pseuds/StarSongVII
Summary: They say that what goes around comes around - and this time Cloud is given a chance to get what he wants. Back at the beginning. SephirothCloud with SephirothOCs, ZackOCs, RenoCloud, OCsCloud. Lemons abound. (Originally posted on FFNet since 2009 - fic will be updated on both FFNet and AO3 moving forward)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
>  
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, yaoi, and smut. Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

Vincent had once mentioned Karma and the Three-Fold Law. Cloud had only listened with half an ear - more focused on trying to get drunk enough to forget that he was trying to save the world. He remembered Cid's response though.

 _Fuck you_.

And then the Triplets happened.

_Fuck you indeed._

Now Cloud was trying to get drunk enough to forget that he had saved the world, twice. It was a losing battle – Mako and years of almost painful control over his emotions had burned away any traces of human weakness. Tifa was doing her best to help though, as she always did. Cocktail after cocktail of almost 100% alcohol was put into his hands as she tried every recipe she could think of. He could tell she was tempted to just douse him with it intravenously, and she probably would have, if it wasn't for the fact that Cloud did not react well to needles of any kind.

Still, the thought of being able to get drunk for the first time in a long time gave the idea some merit. Even though he'd probably die from the alcohol in his bloodstream; but that too was a welcome thought.

If Tifa knew she'd skip the drinks and just knock him out.

The ceiling fans in Seventh Heaven kicked at the air lazily, and the nostalgic golden light of sunset was really making Cloud wish for some manner of oblivion. He didn't like these times: these quiet, introspective moments that crept up on him and seized him like an ex-wife after alimony payments. He was getting them far too often these days – it was almost enough to make him wish he had some omnipotent enemy to hunt down, if only to give him something to focus on.

As long as said omnipotent enemy didn't have long silver hair and piercing green eyes. Because Cloud really didn't think he had it in him to kill Sephiroth again.

 _Third time's a charm_.

Maybe if he faced Sephiroth again he'd be able to shove him deep into his memories for good. Or maybe Sephiroth and he would finally kill each other once and for all. Then Cloud wouldn't have to sit here in Seventh Heaven and drink through all of Tifa's booze.

It was a pleasant notion.

A clatter, and another glass filled to the brim with enough alcohol to knock even Cid out with its smell was pushed into his hand. He gulped it down without a second's hesitation, slamming it down on the worn wooden counter and waited for it to hit him, waited for any sign that it would help stop his mind from churning through memories and faces.

No such luck. He was as alert as ever. He heard Tifa sigh in frustration, and he felt bad for her. She was trying to help, and if he was a more out-spoken man, he would have told her how much he appreciated her understanding, her almost-devotion that caused her to put up with his almost-psychotic behavior, caused her to open her doors to him at all hours of the day and night and empty her best liquor into his hopelessly scarred stomach.

But he wasn't an out-spoken man: he wasn't Zack, and he would never be Zack. No matter how convinced he'd been otherwise. But that was a long time ago, a lifetime ago, when he'd been whacked out of his mind and wandering around in an almost-daze.

_Goddammit._

He'd been trying his best not to think of Zack. Because the memories would just assail him with the force of Yuffie's shrieks, and then he'd have to think about how much he missed that black-haired almost-friend of his.

_I'm such an almost-person._

And that was exactly it. Cloud knew he was dysfunctional, knew he was incomplete. And he knew that no matter what he did he would never be whole, because a huge part of him had been ripped out and mangled and shoved back into his blond head with such viciousness and fury and cruelty that the memories of life before AVALANCHE were spotty at best, and would always be spotty. Like a part of him was just taunting him, reminding him of how much of himself had been lost and would never be found.

He'd known today was going to be bad. Just as it always was on the anniversary of her death.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tifa mixing up another drink, and suddenly he really wished she would take that pink ribbon off her arm because he really didn't need another reminder of his ineptitude.

 _No "almosts" there_.

Another drink, and this time he took it slow, nursed it as though treating it with patience might help make it The One.

 _This isn't one of her flowers, idiot_.

Long hair whispered over his hand, and irrationally he wished it was silver and not black. But it was just Tifa leaning against the bar, her hands placed on either side of Cloud's, looking at him with that sadness and compassion and understanding that made Cloud think that she pitied him his life.

He knew she didn't though, because then she'd have to admit that she felt sorry for herself too. Not that her life hadn't been hard, but it'd certainly been a picnic compared to his.

Not that he would wish his life on anyone – he didn't want anyone else to suffer what he'd had.

He studied her, just to give himself something to look at that wasn't inanimate or inhuman. Because Tifa had never been inanimate or inhuman, she was as warm as they came. And a part of him wished that he could love her the way she loved him, because maybe that would help ease his pain. But instead he just felt worse, because he could never give her a part of himself that he'd lost lifetimes ago.

He'd given her that ring just to tell her that he would always love her as Tifa. She'd understood, she always did.

Maybe it would have been better if she hadn't, because then he wouldn't come to Seventh Heaven whenever he needed someone to be there for him.

But then where would he go? There was no place in this world he hadn't already been to multiple times – sometimes to hunt, sometimes to deliver, sometimes just to think and reflect and almost-cry.

Sighing, he downed the rest of his drink and stood. Tifa just looked at him with that sorrow in her sweet brown eyes, and he thought of kissing her before he left. But he couldn't bring himself to do it, not because he wasn't an affectionate man (everyone knew he wasn't anyway), but because it wasn't her he wanted to kiss.

_Stop it. Just stop it._

He nodded at her once, and she offered him an almost-smile. Then he turned and left, not bothering to drop a bag of Gil on the bar because the last time he'd tried had been the last time. She'd looked like she was about to sic her Final Heaven attack on him, and that wouldn't have been good for Denzel or Marlene to see. Might give them ideas.

As usual Fenrir had drawn a crowd, everyone from Midgar to Wutai to the Northern Crater recognizing it as Cloud Strife's bike. And everyone knew Cloud Strife, everyone wanted to see him, be a part of his life, because he had saved their world twice and he was a goddamned hero.

He hated that word, and at times like these he hated these people he'd helped.

They gave him a wide berth, even though he could tell some of them wanted to throw themselves at him, or at least shake his hand or talk to him. But his taciturn and almost-cold nature was as infamous as his battle prowess, and Tifa had warned as many as she could about the ill-effects of going near Cloud Strife when he didn't initiate the contact.

He straddled Fenrir, powered it up, and took off.

If only he could leave the hopelessness behind as easily as he left Edge in the dust.

##

Aeris had perfected the Art of Voyeurism in her time as part of the Lifestream. She could move between thoughts and dreams and places as easily as the Prom Queen through high school. But there was only ever one person she watched, and she really wished she could talk to him, or at least show him that she was there, that she hadn't left him, and that she really wished he would stop beating himself up over all the things that had gone wrong in his life.

But all she could do was watch and wish. After the Triplets, she had lost the ability to communicate with Cloud. She wondered if it was because he'd lost a part of himself when he killed Sephiroth a second time. She knew it wasn't because he'd forgotten her or his guilt.

She'd known that today would be a bad day. Known as soon as the sun rose that Cloud would be driven out of his home by the demons in his heart, that he would ride Fenrir like a maniac and end up at Tifa's trying to drink himself to death.

And just as always, he would leave perfectly sober and ride like a junkie on a trip to the Forgotten Capital. If it wasn't for the fact that he was Cloud Strife, he'd have broken his neck ages ago.

_Twelve minutes faster than last year._

Cloud was just sitting there, staring into the water. Fenrir had steam coming off its tyres, that was how fast Cloud had pushed his beloved motorcycle. There was a little trickle of blood winding its way down the alabaster skin of his right cheek from when a stray stone had nicked him in his flight from the past, but he didn't seem to notice.

No, it wasn't that. She knew he noticed. Cloud noticed everything, every little thing that people did or didn't do, every little smell and sound and sight and thought and action. It was just that he didn't care anymore, hadn't cared in a long time, and that hurt her more than the sight of his blood on his skin.

As she watched him, sitting there looking as despondent as he always did on this day, she remembered that almost-insane notion that she'd gotten some time ago.

_Put him through it again? Have I really no heart?_

But at times like these, when Cloud looked like he really wanted to cry if he could only remember how to, she could almost believe that making her idea a reality was the best thing anyone could do for the broken hero.

When Cloud buried his head in his hands and wrenched at his hair, howling in impotent rage and despair, she made up her mind.

_What goes around comes around. But this time, it'll be different._

Taking a deep breath, or as deep a breath as a spirit could take, she  _pushed_. And she watched as Cloud fell into the waters of the Forgotten Capital and fell through time.

_I hope this helps, Cloud._

With that, she closed her eyes and moved – she had things to do.

##

Tifa was still staring at the door when the sounds of Fenrir had faded to nothing. She couldn't bring herself to move even her eyes. The cloud of despair that rained over Cloud 24/7 had gotten to her, and sometimes she wished Cloud would just take his pain and shove it right up a Chocobo's arse.

She instantly regretted thinking that, just as she always did whenever she got mad with Cloud for not being strong enough to deal with his pain and regret. She knew he had it rough, rougher than the rest of them, and she suspected she knew why. She didn't like it, but she'd come to accept it. Because that was all she could do. Accept it and be there for Cloud whenever he came in looking like a lost little boy who'd had his favorite toy broken over his head multiple times; or reject it and in so doing reject Cloud.

No one could reject Cloud, not after everything he'd sacrificed for them.

Outside, she could hear the people talking, as they always did whenever Cloud had blown through town like the force of Nature that he was. For all that he tried to be invisible and un-noticed, he attracted attention like Materia attracted Yuffie.

She could hear them talk about how handsome he was, how perfectly and beautifully formed his features were, how brilliantly his baby blue eyes shone; stupid, stupid things that made her skin crawl and made her wish she could use civilians for punching bags. It wasn't that she disliked them noticing Cloud's looks, and she knew all too well how mesmerizing he was physically. It was because these people didn't realize how much it had taken for Cloud to become so strong and muscular and lean and powerful; and they certainly didn't know how many scars littered his body. Mako and Materia and potions could only do so much, and Cloud had long ago stopped letting her patch him up because she could never hold back the little gasp or look of horror every time she bore witness to his past.

She sighed then, if only to fill the air with a sound that wasn't adulation or adoration over a blond-haired man with more emotional baggage than a bunch of Prozac-dependent adolescents.

"Again?"

A deep voice startled her, making her spin around and shoot her fist into a golden claw before the voice registered.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

"Hello Vincent." She tried for a smile, but she knew it was wan. He'd let her hand go as soon as that light of recognition hit her eyes, and he'd settled himself into the same bar-stool that Cloud had vacated awhile ago.

He grunted in response.

_You've been spending too much time with Cloud._

She mixed him up a drink, not as potent as the ones she'd made for Cloud, because Cloud was a machine and practically insane, and Vincent was just a man with Protomateria in his body.

He nursed it as Cloud had done with his last drink, and she told herself to stop seeing Cloud in everything around her.

_Get a grip, girl._

They were quiet for awhile, and Tifa took the opportunity to clean the numerous glasses strewn all over her bar from Cloud's very solemn and very depressing visit. She knew that soon enough Barret and Cid would come barreling through the doors, and that they would again be disappointed that Cloud hadn't hung around long enough for them to see him. But she also knew that secretly they would be relieved that he wasn't there – not because they didn't want to see him, no. They loved Cloud dearly, everyone did. But because every time they were around, Cloud would force himself to act like everything was alright, like he wasn't hurting. And it was that knowledge, the fact that Cloud was still trying to make everything OK for them, that they hated. Because Cloud had done enough for them: too much, in fact. And they couldn't do anything for him.

The sound of running water filled the wooden haven of Seventh Heaven. Tifa refused to have anything cold and metallic in her bar, and only the sink and the necessary bar utensils were a disgusting hard grey. Wood was warm, organic, nurturing. At least it was to her. Cloud had once said wood was just dead plants. It had taken all of her willpower not to break his face.

"He told me he couldn't talk to her anymore."

Vincent's old voice, so different from his deceptively young appearance, startled her from her act of washing high-ball glasses. She almost dropped the one she was holding, and only years of training and reflexes kept it from shattering on the scuffed floor.

She turned the tap off and looked at Vincent. She could wash the stupid glasses later. Barret and Cid didn't need fresh glasses for every drink, and Seventh Heaven was closed to the public today.

She didn't need to ask who it was that Cloud couldn't talk to anymore.

She wished Cloud had told her that. Wished she didn't have to hear it from a shape-shifting immortal who was so much like the blond it hurt. Because even though Vincent resembled Cloud in so many ways, he would never be Cloud.

Vincent would never be broken enough to be Cloud.

She didn't know what to say, but apparently Vincent knew she wouldn't. He always liked saying things that stunned others into silence. It was why Cid and Barret cursed so fluently around him – he enjoyed dropping verbal bombs on people.

Tifa turned, started mixing a drink for herself. God knew she needed one. Cloud had the ability to drain the life out of anyone by being Mr Morose. Every time he came to visit her, she could feel a little part of herself breaking. His visits were wearing down her natural optimism and spirit, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him to cheer up or else. It would be selfish, and Tifa had never been a selfish person. Perhaps when she'd been a child; and young and naïve and selfish as all children are. But not anymore. Not after all that she'd been through, all that she'd watched Cloud suffer through.

She spilled a little of her drink into the ashtray as she turned back to face Vincent: that silly incongruous ashtray that Denzel and Marlene had painted for Cloud. He'd taken up smoking after the whole Triplets Incident, but he never smoked around the children.

_Always looking out for everyone else._

She stared at the butts left behind, crushed by strong, calloused fingers. And she wished that there was something, some drug or drink or potion that would make Cloud's pain go away.

She remembered Cloud after he'd killed Sephiroth the first time. He'd seemed to have found some peace at first, and she'd stupidly hoped they could settle down and be a family.

Then she noticed that he'd stopped sleeping or eating, and had started working on his bike. When it was done, he told her it was called Fenrir. And then he'd started his delivery business.

She'd understood. Cloud had never really had a home. Nibelheim had too many cruel memories, and, try as she might, she could never give him the home that he'd always longed for. She told herself that it was alright, because no matter how far Cloud wandered, he always came back to Seventh Heaven.

She'd thought he was happy with his job – he was certainly sleeping and eating again. But then she started noticing the little downturn of his mouth when he thought she wasn't looking, and the way he preferred to sleep with his back against the wall, holding First Tsurugi so tightly in his right hand that the veins stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He'd only slept like that when they'd been chasing Sephiroth, and she'd wondered if he was doing it again because maybe he could keep the demons at bay that way.

After the Terrible Trio, he'd seemed better. Not fantastic, and certainly not cheerful, but better. No longer dragging around such a terrible weight.

Or maybe that was just because his Geostigma was gone.

He'd started spending more and more time away from Edge, away from her and the children and their little circle of friends. It seemed only Vincent saw him more than twice a month – and that was only because Vincent was a wanderer like Cloud. The rest of them had settled down, built homes for themselves, moved on. Cid had married Shera, and the word was that she was pregnant and making him smoke outside the house. He'd cussed long and loudly, it seemed. Then he'd just built himself a nice little gazebo, and Yuffie had given him an obnoxiously pink deckchair.

Yuffie had taken up the reins of Wutai, although she was still wont to wander around stealing Materia. The rest of them had given up trying to tell her that it wasn't the kind of thing a lady did. She never did figure out that Cloud always managed to steal Materia off her whenever he visited – she was still trying to catch that elusive little thief that seemed to be plaguing Wutai.

Barret had become quite a wealthy man, amassing a fortune in the oil trade. He was generous to a fault though, and most of his funds were spent on building homes and schools and clinics. He'd put enough aside to ensure that Marlene and Denzel would never have to work a day in their lives. That was the first thing he'd done with his money, and Tifa would never forget the day he'd strode into her bar, practically  _glowing_  with pride, and the way he'd picked her, Marlene, and Denzel up in a bone-crushing hug, just because he couldn't talk - he was so overjoyed. He'd tried to give Tifa money too, tried to give her more than she could spend in a lifetime, but the only thing she accepted was his help in remodeling her bar.

She liked her work. It made her feel useful, wanted.

If she didn't keep Seventh Heaven running, where would Cloud run to?

_The past._

Her head snapped up, and she spun around, eyes searching wildly for the source of that long-dead voice. Vincent had Cerberus drawn too, and was trying to find a target.

They looked at each other, and instantly made for the old church.

##

Aeris sighed and wondered for the umpteenth time if she'd made the right decision. Not with regards to sending Cloud back, no; but she wondered if she should be saying anything to Tifa and Vincent. She knew they'd worry over Cloud, knew that they worried about him all the time. She just didn't want them finding Fenrir abandoned in the Forgotten Capital, with no Cloud in sight.

_Let's just get this over with._

Steeling herself, she turned just as the doors to the church burst open and two dark-haired warriors stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing her.

She smiled at them, it was easy to. She loved them dearly, and their flabbergasted expressions were hilarious. She would have teased them about it too, if she had more time here, and if it wasn't draining the Planet terribly to give her a more corporeal form.

"Hello." Her voice, though weak and thin with the amount of effort it was taking for her to speak to them and appear before them, seemed to break the trance, and Tifa's mouth worked as though she was trying to form words.

"I haven't got much time here," Aeris continued, ignoring how Tifa was surreptitiously pinching herself to ensure it wasn't a dream. "I just wanted to tell you that Cloud's safe. But he won't be coming back, at least not for a while."

At the mention of Cloud, Vincent and Tifa started as though electrified, and a thousand questions came bubbling out at once. Aeris didn't try to answer them, she just repeated that Cloud would be fine (she hoped) and then she closed her eyes and sank back into the little lake that had formed in her church.

_Please be OK, Cloud._

Vincent was the first to break the trance, and he moved forward almost cautiously before peering into the pool. He didn't see anything but his own reflection and the petals that always floated by the edges; not that he'd been expecting to see anything.

_Ancients._

He turned back to Tifa, who had been rendered immobile. She looked heart-broken, and he knew that if he'd been a less emotionally-constipated man, he'd be wearing the same despondent look on his face. Instead, he walked out of the church, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder as he passed her, and then he practically flew to the Forgotten Capital. He knew he wouldn't find Cloud there: knew with a certainty that he hated that Cloud was long gone, gone to a long-ago time. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit that he wanted to go back too, if only to stop Lucrecia from turning away from him.

_That would have prevented the entire Sephiroth fiasco, and that would have prevented a lot of things._

But he knew that it was Cloud who had the strongest links to the past, and it was Cloud who still carried Sephiroth and Jenova in his blood just as he carried the memories of them on his shoulders.

Vincent knew that the only thing he could do for his friend now was to take care of Fenrir, on the off chance that Cloud ever returned.

##

Cloud hadn't had a hangover in a long time, but he could have sworn this is what it felt like. Which was odd for any number of reasons, but mostly because he could've sworn he'd left Tifa's sober as a monk.

Habit made his senses sharpen, even though he wished he could just go back to sleep. It had been fitful, as always, but at least it had been dreamless. The nightmares had been plaguing him a little too much recently.

_There shouldn't be anyone here._

He could tell that there were others around him, even though the last thing he remembered was being at the Forgotten Capital – cursing his traitorous body for not being able to get drunk, cursing his traitorous eyes for not being able to tear, cursing his traitorous mind for not being able to leave his memories buried, cursing himself for not being able to save Aeris and Zack, and then just cursing Life and Fate and that asshole Murphy for everything that went wrong.

His eyes snapped open, and instantly he wished they hadn't. The light, albeit weak, hurt. And then, even though it pained him to do so, he rolled to his feet, one hand reaching for Tsurugi, the other going into a defensive guard.

And then it hit him, like a train hitting an errant insect.

_This isn't happening. This isn't real._

Around him were fifteen others: young boys still sleeping, snoring away in this military room that reeked of sweat and old socks and cheap alcohol.

_Cadet bunks._

That knowledge made him stagger, and he dropped ungracefully back to the lumpy mattress behind him. He hadn't been anything but graceful in a long time, but now, as he looked at his thin, gangly limbs, he wished he hadn't woken up.

_This is just an illusion._

Except illusions and dreams didn't feel this real, didn't have this much detail. He could feel the cold floor beneath his bare feet, the cool air on his neck from the vents, the headache pounding in his skull, and his heart thundering in his chest.

He glanced at himself, and then he propelled himself off the bed and down the hall, into the communal bathrooms. He got there just in time to empty what appeared to be a bar-full of last night's liquor into the ceramic commode, and as soon as the first wave of shock was over, he retched again and again and again until his stomach ached with having nothing else to throw up.

He sat there on the cold tiled floor even though it was making him shiver. He hadn't had an illness in a very long time, and he'd gotten used to ignoring aches and pains. The vomit stank though, and he raised himself to his feet with an effort, flushing the toilet and heading to the sinks. He washed his face with the heavily-chlorinated water, and then he just stared at his reflection in the chipped mirror.

_No._

He was fifteen again.

His eyes weren't glowing, and he'd almost forgotten that they hadn't always been such a vivid blue. Not that he looked at himself in mirrors much – he couldn't bear to face the proof of Hojo's experiments. But he'd caught enough glimpses of himself before to know that his eyes should have been much brighter than the bloodshot ones staring wildly back at him now.

His face was thinner, slight traces of puppy fat still in his cheeks. His face would fill out later, become more angular and more tanned. He would have a man's face. Not this childish visage with its untamable mop of hair that resembled a Chocobo's backside more than anything. At least when he was a man, when he was Cloud Strife, Savior Of The Bloody World Twice, people had said his hair was cool. They'd tried to emulate his style – and Reeve swore that more people were breathing hairspray than oxygen because of Cloud Strife.

Now though, his hair just looked stupid. Everything about him looked stupid, and he hated the fact that this was how he'd looked all those years ago, before he'd become the most feared warrior in all the world.

At least when he was famous for his fighting ability, no one would have dared called him stupid.

He pinched himself, hard, and his reflection winced with him.

_It's not a dream._

He just stared at himself in the mirror as he tried to understand what that meant for him. He wasn't an idiot, even though Barret called him one often enough. He knew that he was back in the cadet program of SOLDIER, which meant that Nibelheim hadn't happened yet.

_Which means that Zack and Aeris are still alive, and Sephiroth is sane._

He didn't know which part of that thought was making his heart thump louder in his very thin, very awkward, very un-filled-out chest.

His ear wasn't pierced either, was the irrational thought that leapt hysterically to the forefront of his mind.

Taking a deep breath, Cloud turned and headed back to his bunk. He needed to know what day it was, what date it was, and whether he could get out and look for some explanations.

And then he needed to know if Zack had befriended him yet.

At the thought of Zack, his chest tightened, just as it always did whenever the memory of the SOLDIER hit him. Cloud couldn't stop the wild excitement that coursed through him at the realization that Zack was here somewhere and  _alive_.

He entered the bunks as soundlessly as possible, not that it would have made a difference. A stampeding Bahamut wouldn't have woken the slumbering cadets.

He looked around for some sort of calendar, and then he noticed the cheap plastic clock on the wall, Shinra-issued to the cadets so that they could countdown to their exams and the moment of their failure.

_Quit being so damned negative._

Judging by the date, and assuming the obnoxious time-piece was even accurate, he had just over eight months to Nibelheim, and roughly four months to the SOLDIER Entrance Exams.

The word "SUN" stared back at him, and he realized elatedly that it was a Sunday. Which meant he was free to do as he pleased, as long as he was back before curfew. He debated going to look for Zack, but then realized that he couldn't remember exactly when Zack had befriended him, and if they weren't friends yet it would be really awkward approaching the SOLDIER.

_Aeris then._

His mind made up, he dressed quickly and left the barracks.

It was almost surreal, being back here. Cloud was more accustomed to seeing rubble and debris where the Shinra buildings had once stood, instead of this tangible display of their power. Around him rose various buildings of different heights, some were training areas, some were classrooms and dining halls, some were bunks, and some he had never figured out what they were used for.

Making his way quickly to the gates, he kept his head low as he passed the sleepy guard who simply blinked at him before turning away. It was too early on a Sunday for any cadet to be up and about, but the guard didn't care. He just wanted his shift to end so he could crawl into a nice, warm bed for the rest of the day.

Cloud wasn't surprised to feel elated at the fact that he wasn't being treated with the annoying reverence everyone had come to treat him with. If it wasn't adoration and worship, it was Tifa and the others treading on egg-shells around him.

He walked briskly to the train station, and bought his return ticket from a very surprised looking attendant. It was slightly past 7AM and the only reason the trains ran this early was because they were automated and Shinra couldn't be bothered to set a timer – so the trains ran practically 24/7.

_Thought those greedy Scrooges would at least try to save some money on the running and maintenance costs._

Cloud's mouth turned down in derision as it always did when he thought of the porky president. He accepted his change from the attendant, 20Gil for his 100Gil piece. It cost very little to go from above the plate to the slums. But it cost plenty to come above the plate, and that was if the attendants below even allowed you to buy a ticket. Shinra was very particular about who could come near their perfect pristine buildings.

The train screeched to a halt steps away from Cloud, and he entered the empty carriage, glad for the solitude. With a loud squeal and a resounding clang, the doors shut and the train kicked back for a second before starting off. Cloud stumbled, and cursed his utter lack of co-ordination. He'd honed his body into a precise killing machine, and now he couldn't keep his balance on a damned  _train_.

He sat gingerly on one of the thin plastic seats, and stared out the grimy window as the world flew past. He felt slightly numb, like he didn't know how exactly he should be feeling. He supposed he should be glad that someone somewhere had heard his prayers and granted his wish. But at the same time, and this thought made his shoulders curl in and his head sink down with the weight of it all, what if he failed again? Would he then have to relive every horrible moment and be powerless to stop it again? Would he have to watch Zack's body practically vibrate as it was riddled with bullets, would he have to feel the heat of the flames as Nibelheim burned, would he have to stare as the Masamune sliced clean through Aeris like a hot knife through butter?

Would he have to look into the eyes of the greatest man he'd ever known, and see only madness?

Shaking his head, he resolved not to think about it. At least not until Aeris shed some light on this turn of events. Cloud was nothing if not a pragmatist. He knew he hadn't always been one though – knew that in his younger days he'd been an emo little drama queen with a chip on his shoulder. But too many things had happened, and he had realized the value of shutting away emotions while sorting things through logically, rationally, coolly.

The train screeched to a halt again, huffing as it slammed its doors open for Cloud. He exited, making for Sector 5 and praying that Aeris would be there. He ignored the sights and sounds and acrid smell of the slums, but he couldn't help super-imposing what he was seeing with what he remembered of Midgar after Meteor.

_Sunlight._

This Midgar, this life under the plate, was one of the reasons why he sometimes thought that Meteor had been a good thing. At least it had taken away the plate and therefore the very symbol and proof of the oppression of the 'lower class'. From then on things had blossomed, helped along by WRO and Neo-Shinra. Tifa and Barret had helped a lot too, but Cloud had given up trying to chip in when all that happened was that people would stop whatever they were doing to congregate around him and gape.

Resolutely he ignored the drunks littering the streets, reeking of urine and bile and disease. He could smell fumes from the reactors too, and he really wanted to blow them up. But then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd done it, and he tried to forget Jesse's and Bigg's broken bodies.

Fortunately for him, all was relatively quiet. There were a few people stumbling around, prostitutes heading to wherever they called home after a night's work, junkies wandering in their dazed little worlds, the odd pickpocket looking for some loose change. Cloud side-stepped them all, and it was only years of training that prevented him from reacting to their proximity – that, and the knowledge that he was unarmed and weak in this time. He cursed himself, wishing he had thought to secure some sort of weapon before bailing out of the barracks, but he'd gotten used to always having several knives on him even when he slept, and First Tsurugi was never far from him.

_Have to get a blade._

First things first, though. He breathed a sigh of relief when the broken steeple of Aeris' church came into view. He was panting slightly from his near-jog through the slums, and he almost missed the effects of Hojo's tinkering. At least then he'd almost never gotten winded.

The doors were as he'd remembered – at once imposing and inviting. He paused a moment to catch his breath, and then he realized that he was panting more out of nerves than anything else. He cursed silently, hating that he hadn't thought things through in his rush to find Aeris, to reassure himself that at least in this world she was alive.

_What if she doesn't know?_

He didn't think he could bear it if she didn't recognize him, if she looked at him as though he was a freak or druggie on a trip. Then he remembered that Aeris could never look unkindly at anyone, and he didn't want to see pity in her eyes.

Squaring his shoulders, he pushed the doors open, tensing as they squeaked and squealed on their hinges as though protesting this early morning exertion. He couldn't care less though. The church was exactly as he'd remembered, down to that silent calm that pervaded the solemn beauty of it all. He took a deep breath then, breathing in the scent of flowers and stone and wood, closing his eyes to savor it, and then he opened them and stepped across the threshold.

The little field of flowers waved at him, the blooms lightly swaying, beckoning invitingly. He walked hesitantly towards them, as though afraid that they would melt away and become a lake rimmed with petals if he got too close.

They didn't, and he stood there and just  _looked_  at them. He'd spent a lot of time in the church before Kadaj had rocked up and blown a hole in the ground, and he could have sworn the flowers here were somehow more colorful, more  _alive_  than they had been when he'd lain on his threadbare bed-roll clutching his left arm and knowing that it was his punishment for not being good enough.

"Hello."

A soft voice that tinkled like bells in morning dew. He didn't dare turn, didn't dare look, as though doing so would mean that the vision of her would disappear as it always did. He clenched his fists, tried to calm himself, took a shaky breath, as he listened to her footsteps moving closer. He could smell her, that scent of flowers and earth and wind in an old church that was so distinctly Aeris that it overpowered him temporarily, and Cloud had to close his eyes at the enormity of it all.

A light hand on his left bicep, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and holding it there, keeping it in place. He'd never been whole after losing her, and if this wasn't real he'd be a much more broken man.

_It's cruel to kick fallen puppies._

But her hand beneath his felt as solid and real and as dainty as ever, and he could feel her lightly calloused fingertips against his non-existent bicep. It strengthened him, this proof of her being there, and he turned.

He'd forgotten how incredibly beautiful she was.

Her green eyes twinkled at him, kind and all-knowing and gentle and tender and loving. Her brown hair was in her usual braid, falling down her back, but wavy tendrils had escaped and they framed her delicate face like a lover's caress. Her lips were curled in a smile that was at once warm and amused and so filled with affection that he felt his own lips mimicking her.

"Hello," he said, voice catching as his throat closed up. He couldn't say anything more, and just stared at her, wanting so much to hug her to him and beg for forgiveness, yet somehow feeling unworthy of touching her any more than he already was. He'd always felt like he was tainting her somehow, even in his memories – because he was useless and imperfect, and she was an angel.

She smiled at him, a knowing smile that seemed to tell him that she knew exactly what he was thinking. Then again, she'd always seemed to know the self-depreciating thoughts that clamored in his Swiss-cheese brain.

"It's good to see you, Cloud." And then her smile widened, but it was tinged with sorrow.

Cloud's smile fled his face instantly and he frowned: he hated seeing Aeris upset. Hated seeing any one of his friends upset.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Cloud." And then his brow furrowed in confusion. What was she sorry about? She was here, she was real, she was  _alive_ , and he could talk to her and hold her and touch her. It was almost enough to make him forget that he'd failed to save her.

"Why are you apologizing?" his hold on her hand tightened, and he made himself relax it so as not to hurt her.

"Because I did what I did without asking you how you'd feel about it." Aeris' eyes were troubled as she looked up at him, and Cloud could only stare at her.

"…I'm just glad to be here with you," he answered at last. "And thank you for giving me this."

At that, Aeris reached out with her other hand and pulled Cloud to her, holding him against her and stroking the back of his head. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her, breathing in her scent, and he couldn't bear the thought of waking up and having this be just another trick of his mind.

At length Aeris pulled away and led him to one of the pews. They sat, and Cloud held her hand in both of his, not wanting to relinquish contact.

"You have questions?" she cocked her head to the side, tilted it curiously in that graceful way of hers.

He nodded, and his throat worked as he tried to speak. It took him several tries, but at length Cloud was able to give voice to the burning question in his mind.

"Why?"

She smiled again, and looked away briefly before looking him in the eye. "Because you were sad, Cloud. Because you couldn't seem to forgive yourself no matter what, and because you couldn't seem to understand that it was never your fault to begin with."

Cloud looked away then, at the flowers grinning perkily up at him. His headache from before was back with a vengeance: funny how he'd pushed it away thus far. He didn't want to think about what he couldn't forgive himself for. It was bad enough he had to live with the proof of his failures everyday.

"Oh Cloud," Aeris breathed, reaching out to stroke his cheek lightly. He turned back to face her. "Things will be different this time, you'll see." And she seemed to be trying to will him to agree with her. "You have a chance now to have the life you want."

And Cloud pondered her words even as he leaned his cheek into her caress. To have what he wanted… he couldn't stop his mind from straying to an image of long silver hair and an aristocratic profile. He pushed the thought out of his head brutally.

_Not a chance._

And somehow that hurt, knowing that here HE was alive, but would still never return the feelings that had torn Cloud to shreds every time he'd had to kill him.

Aeris sighed as she looked at him. She could almost see the dark thoughts consuming his mind, the pessimism born of a lifetime of sacrifices and shattered dreams. If she hadn't been convinced before, now she was absolutely positive that it had been the right thing to do - sending Cloud back to where he had a chance at happiness.

Cloud just looked at her and tried to give her a half-smile.

 _Always trying to make everyone happy_.

She wanted him to be happy, wanted him to seize this chance with both hands and pursue it with the dogged determination that had made him chase Sephiroth to the ends of the world. But she knew he'd need plenty of nudges along the way – he seemed to believe that he wasn't worthy of happiness. But she couldn't blame him. Every time he'd had a chance at some sort of joy it'd been snatched cruelly away from him.

 _Not this time_.

Aeris was determined that this time would be different. This time, Cloud would have his heart's desire. He'd done enough for the world that he deserved something better than cold memories.

She hesitated though, and Cloud sensed it, as he always did.

"What is it?" the urgency of his voice didn't suit this young face, nor did it escape her that his voice had deepened, his words more clipped. This was the voice of the leader of AVALANCHE, at once caring, compassionate, business-like, and authoritative.

She couldn't look him in the eye. "What I did…when I sent you back, I changed the order of things." She took a deep breath, looking everywhere but at the blond boy-man next to her. "There will be challenges you'll have to overcome – because you're the one who'll save the world." She chanced a glance at him then, and instantly wished she hadn't.

Cloud's face had closed-off, his body had tensed. His eyes were frigid, and the line of his jaw was so grim and firm that it looked completely incongruous with his fifteen-year old appearance.

He was looking straight at her and wishing he didn't have to play the damned hero again. He was sick of it. Sure, he'd wanted everyone to know he was strong, that was partly why he'd left Nibelheim for cadet training. But when he'd gotten the strength he'd wished for, no one had told him that the price he'd have to pay would be more than he could ever recover from.

"I'm so sorry, Cloud." She touched his cheek, noting how he didn't react at all to her. Some of her pain must have shown in her eyes, though, because he instantly forced himself to relax. His eyes were still cold, but not as freezingly hard as before.

Cloud knew he couldn't blame Aeris, knew there was no point getting angry. A part of him had been expecting this. But still he'd been hoping that he wouldn't have to play the Savior again, that he wouldn't have to be the super-strong, super-fast, super-tough warrior whom everyone turned to whenever things got rough.

He just wanted to be Cloud.

Instantly he felt bad – here he was being selfish, whining about the unfairness of it all when the Planet was suffering, Vincent was locked in a coffin, and Red XIII was probably being dissected by Hojo right now.

He sighed, and when Aeris looked at him, he gave her a small smile. It wasn't much, but at least he wanted her to know that he understood, and that he'd do it, and this time he'd keep her safe.

It was the least he could do.

She smiled at him, and suddenly he didn't care if he had to save the world a thousand times. It was worth it to have her back in his life – she'd always been the joyful part of his soul, the happy little song in his heart, the light in his mind.

Cloud didn't want to think about what he would do or how he would feel if a certain green-eyed SOLDIER smiled at him.

_Probably start babbling like a girl._

_##_

"Hey, Cloud. Where've you been?"

Cloud looked up in surprise, and stared straight into the light brown eyes of Brian Tranton. He barely remembered him from his cadet days, but what he could remember was that Brian was one of the few who'd never poked fun at Cloud for being weak and puny. Of course, it might have had something to do with the fact that Brian himself wasn't very strong or smart. He was the second son of a middle class family out of Kalm, and seemed to be the kind of average, normal person that Cloud had often wished he could be.

He must've stared at Brian for too long, because Tranton simply rolled his eyes and smiled. "You're out of it,  _again_." Then Brian simply turned back to his book.

Dumbly, Cloud made for his bed and collapsed onto it. He looked around at the rest of his bunk-mates, and none of them seemed to have even noticed him.

_Runt of the litter._

He'd forgotten much of his days as a cadet – had WANTED to forget and he had. But he knew he'd been alternately picked on or ignored. He supposed his immaturity hadn't helped, or the fact that he'd been too weak to do much.

This time would be different though.

With that in mind, he leaned back and started to plan.

The time with Aeris had been good. They'd had lunch together, and he'd walked her home before receiving a peck on the cheek. He felt happier, calmer, lighter. And now he was back in the barracks, trying not to think about the consequences of failing, and trying to figure out how to get stronger, faster.

And then he needed to work out how to befriend Zack and get close enough to Sephiroth to stop Nibelheim.

"Lights out!" The bellow seemed to galvanize the cadets into action, as everyone scrambled to put away drinks and cards and books before the room was plunged into darkness. Cloud himself simply toed off his boots and lay back down, the rollercoaster ride his emotions had taken all day making him fall asleep as soon as his head hit the cheap pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, yaoi, and smut. Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

Vincent wheeled Fenrir into the shed Cloud had built expressly for it. His keen eyes didn't miss how ridiculously well-made it was – all smooth, shiny steel: reinforced and waterproofed and bulletproofed and  _climate-controlled_. Fenrir even had its own throw rug and cushioned stands.

 _Good grief_.

He slid the bolt back into its place along the door, noting how it would take at least three non-genetically-enhanced men to move it. That is, if said non-genetically-enhanced men could even handle Fenrir. The Beast on Wheels was notorious for giving anyone but Cloud a hard time.

Even Mecha-thumb Cid had had to concede defeat.

As he turned to go, he spotted the little hut that seemed to be a part of the rock-wall behind it. Vincent wasn't a fool – he knew Cloud had designed it specifically to blend in with the environment. And he knew that this was definitely where Cloud lived – had caught enough glimpses of his friend coming to this area and disappearing into thin air to figure it out.

He hesitated, not wanting to pry even though the blond man was long gone. Cloud was an insanely private man, guarding his thoughts and emotions like a jealous lover. And Vincent understood that – what it was like to have only memories to call your own. Not that Cloud was even sure which of his memories were his and his alone.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

His mind made up, he picked the lock and walked in.

And stopped, and  _stared_.

It was  _tiny_.

There was barely enough space for what little the place did have – and Vincent had nearly walked right into the rock-face that served as the back of Cloud's home.

 _Not his home. His prison_.

Because that was exactly what it looked like. There was no window, no electricity, no pictures, not even a bed. Just that ugly green bedroll that Vincent had seen one too many times, and a small chest where he assumed Cloud kept the Materia he stole from Yuffie. There was no light or oil-lamp; not that Cloud needed it – Mako and finely honed senses would have helped him navigate a bigger, less Spartan place than this.

There wasn't even a fireplace or any manner of cooking appliance – and Vincent wondered if Cloud ate anything that wasn't packed by Tifa or packaged by WRO. He turned to leave, and just as he was locking the door behind him he noticed the little well hidden in the shadow of the hut. Then he realized why the whole set-up was so depressing.

It was all far too military to be comfortable.

Cloud couldn't allow himself to relax or grow complacent – couldn't allow himself to get used to warm food and soft, fluffy beds. Because one day he might wake up and the world would need him to ride to the rescue like a bloody knight in shining armor again and he'd do it because it was all he knew how to do.

Then after he'd dispatched yet another threat to humanity, he'd come back to this tiny cell and sit in the dark and think. There wasn't even a book or radio in the place to distract him.

 _Someone needs a hobby_.

Vincent wondered if he could have made a difference, if he could've somehow helped Cloud with his burden. They were similar enough that Vincent had come to regard Cloud as more than a friend, almost a soul-mate, because they both knew what it was like to carry a beast within. Maybe if he hadn't been so afraid of broaching a sore topic and offending a friend; maybe if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his own damn problems and come over to spend some time with Cloud and talk…

 _Don't kid yourself, Valentine_.

All the pep-talks and friends in the world wouldn't have helped. Cloud hadn't just lost his dreams; he'd had to destroy them himself to save the rest of the world. But somehow Vincent knew that if it came to it, Cloud would willingly sacrifice everything if only to protect everyone else.

_Quit being such a damned martyr and get a life._

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. Vincent wondered how Cloud would react to that. Probably give him that sad little smile of his and avoid him for the rest of his life.

##

Cloud couldn't decide if he wanted to wake up. On the one hand, if the whole second-chance thing turned out to be just a very vivid dream, then at least he'd wake up in familiar surroundings. On the other hand, if he really WAS fifteen again, there was a chance here for him to take what he wanted and live the dream.

That was just it: he didn't know if he wanted to live a dream, or dream of living. One was familiar and comfortable; the other was so filled with hope and promise that it was at once exhilarating and terrifying.

As he was procrastinating and attempting to postpone the inevitable, his body decided to go ahead without him and take the plunge. He could hear snoring, could smell the sweat.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

He opened his eyes.

It was dark, very dark. Cloud couldn't even see the clock on the wall, and he almost wished he had Hojo's tinkering to back him. But he didn't, so he looked around the room instead, eyes landing on a faint glow two bunks away.

_Glow-in-the-dark alarm clock._

He rolled to his feet, wincing as the bed creaked a little. No one stirred though, and he made his way stealthily over to the sleeping cadet with the very handy time-piece.

_Four-fucking-thirty._

He'd gotten so used to sleeping only four hours a day, six at the very most, that it appeared his mental awareness had carried over to this useless teenage body. He supposed that was a good thing – he couldn't honestly be expected to save the world with the mentality of a fifteen year old hillbilly.

Sighing, he turned and headed for the bathrooms. He knew better than to try to go back to sleep – if he succeeded, it would mess up his sleeping habits and he refused to be anything less than the man he was. Washing his face and brushing his teeth were done on auto-pilot as he pondered the situation. It was Monday, and from what he could remember of cadet training they had PT every morning for two hours, before a whole host of classes.

PT started at seven-thirty though, after breakfast. Which meant that Cloud had about two hours before the wake-up call sounded at six-thirty.

He spat into the sink, rinsed his mouth, and couldn't help glancing in the mirror. He didn't know what he'd been expecting,  _hoping_  for – maybe for some of the bulk and height he'd finally gained, but he knew that if his eyes started glowing he'd be in big trouble. Cadets absolutely did NOT have Mako-glows, and Cloud vaguely remembered that their Mako-testing would take place only towards the end of the cadet program. He wasn't looking forward to it, but at the same time, he knew he would welcome the effects of Mako. It helped to be genetically-enhanced when you had to save the world.

His face was as stupidly childish as ever. If Cloud had been a different man, he'd have made a face or smashed the mirror. But he'd learned to control himself, to keep a chokingly tight rein on his emotions, so he just turned to leave before an idea hit him.

_Chin-ups._

The bathroom stalls were metal (God only knew why), and they looked pretty stable. Cloud could use them to his advantage – he knew he needed to work on his abysmal fitness and strength, it was one of the reasons why he'd failed the SOLDIER exams before.

He walked over slowly, stretching his arms lightly on the way. When he came to a stop directly under one of the beams that held the doors to the stalls, he couldn't help scowling when he realized how very high up it was.

_Shorty._

He leapt up, catching hold of the metal shaft with some of his old grace. But already his arms were burning with the effort of trying to remain holding on.

_Pathetic._

Gritting his teeth, he shifted his hands into position, took a deep breath, and pulled.

It  _burned_. And he hadn't even gotten his chin near the beam yet. This was ridiculous. As an adult, he'd been able to do hundreds of one-handed chin-ups easily, and now he couldn't even do a normal chin-up without his arms whining like one of those new-fangled emo-rock groups.

_Tough luck._

Heedless of his body's cries, he pulled harder until his chin touched the beam, then very slowly he lowered himself while exhaling, not wanting to get into the habit of a jarring release. The biggest problem with cadets was that they liked taking the easy way out, liked to just drop back quickly from a chin-up position because they wanted to give their muscles some relief. It was only in SOLDIER that they would realize that the best way to build up strength and therefore reduce the pain was to move slowly and breathe correctly – that way the proper muscles would be used, and it lessened the probability of injury.

Cloud kept up his exercise, but he was sweating profusely by the second successful chin-up. He persevered though, liking how when his body was shaking so hard from the effort his mind couldn't really think about the consequences of failure.

He managed twelve before his strength gave out, and he fell to the floor in an ungraceful, sweaty heap. He forced himself to stand shakily, and he brushed sticky hair away from his face with a hand that quivered like Yuffie's bottom lip whenever she tried to emotionally blackmail him. He never thought he'd miss her brattiness, but he was surprised to find that he'd willingly put up with a thousand of her shrieks right now if only to have a familiar face at his side.

 _Absence makes the heart grow fonder_.

If that was true then a certain silver-haired man should be very fond of Cloud right now.

Shaking his head, he stretched his arms again, before looking back up at the smug metal beam. He leapt up, catching it with sweaty palms, and quickly brought his knees up and tucked his legs over and around it. It was time for crunches, and these were particularly effective. Cloud would hang himself upside down and use only his abdominal muscles to pull his chin to his knees while his lower back muscles kept his body firm. He knew that he needed to strengthen his core muscles, knew that when it came to throwing punches or swinging a massive broadsword around the majority of his strength would come from his abs and lower back – Tifa had confirmed that the techniques involved in making blows more powerful required very strong internal muscles and proper breathing habits.

He inhaled, then clenched his stomach and pulled himself up on the exhale. And very nearly fell off the beam as his entire body jerked and practically  _fizzled_  with the effort.

_Friggin' ridiculous!_

Had Hojo really made THAT much of an impact? Did Cloud really owe so much to the mad scientist with the stereotypical Dr Frankenstein look?

_No way in hell._

This time, he would do it HIS way. There was absolutely no chance of him allowing Hojo to experiment on him again, no way he would give someone the opportunity to take him apart and prod him and humiliate him and manipulate him. Cloud knew that he was on the small side, knew that he was slightly effeminate (there was a reason why he'd managed to fool Corneo after all), but he wasn't going to let that stop him. Failure was not an option. It wasn't everyday that anyone got the chance to go back to the past armed with years of experience and hindsight, and Cloud was going to make the best of it.

_Good luck with that._

Now if only his traitorous mind would just shut up, everything would be just peachy.

Grunting and panting with the effort, he managed twenty such crunches, practically  _flopping_  towards the end, and then changed his position on the beam and dropped to the ground. He would have back-flipped off the bar but he'd probably have rubbed noses with the floor that way – his body was still far too underdeveloped for that sort of exertion. Mako had really made a difference, and not just physically. It was a helluva confidence booster; and confidence, Cloud knew, was the key to successfully pulling off any sort of stunt.

He wondered how he'd succeeded in saving the world twice, when he'd never really had any confidence in his abilities.

 _Didn't know saving lives was a goddamned stunt_.

He didn't have very long to work out until the others woke, and he didn't have much time until the exams or Nibelheim. He needed to make the most of every second, and he really didn't need to keep thinking about how weak he was or about how much he wanted to see a certain Angel of Death.

_Goddammit._

He knew just the thing to clear his head, and he headed out of the barracks, accidentally catching a glimpse of himself in the mirrors as he left the bathroom. His hair was limp and sticking to his head like an upturned bowl of banana mush, and his face was ruddier than Red XIII's backside.

 _Lovely_.

He walked quickly towards the track, and once there he started stretching. His flexibility was almost laughable here, and he knew he'd need to work on it. Speed and leonine reflexes could only do so much, and more than once it had been only Cloud's almost stripper-like suppleness that had enabled him to dodge a fatal blow.

_Well, if SOLDIER doesn't work out…_

Stretching done, he took off at a jog, making sure to keep his breathing deep and even. He'd found that focusing on simple things like inhaling and exhaling helped keep the inevitable muscle burn at bay, and he needed to build up his endurance and stamina. There was no point in being super-strong and super-fast if he dropped boneless to the ground within five minutes of a fight.

He didn't know what time it was, or how long he had, but he was determined to keep at his almost-run until the wake-up call sounded. He didn't want to think about what he was going to say if the other cadets asked why he was already up and sweaty - if they even noticed him at all. He supposed they might even chalk it up to masturbation, being male and teenaged. But somehow he didn't want them to think that he was the kind of guy who wanked, let alone the kind of moron who woke up earlier than everyone else just to shag himself silly.

He managed two rounds around the field before the stitch in his side became a serious hindrance, but he refused to double over or slouch. Posture was important, and if he could just break the pain barrier he'd be in better shape for the exams. So Cloud kept himself upright, his obliques and core muscles practically trembling with the effort required to maintain a proper carriage after so much exertion.

He kept going, just focusing on his breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart as it thumped along in time with his booted feet on the worn track. Running always gave him a certain peace of mind and clarity of thought – it always helped him feel like he was somehow free of doubt, free of care or worry or concern. The light morning breeze carried a scent of metal and Mako, but for once Cloud welcomed this reminder of Shinra's presence. It helped remind him of how much he stood to lose – and not just his life or the lives of his friends or the rest of the world; but more importantly his self-respect and his peace of mind. While Cloud had never really come to terms with himself, he'd at least managed to achieve a certain ease with his body and his environment that, although far from being contentment or happiness, had at least given him a sort of calmness of spirit. It might have just been familiarity, after years of going through almost the same motions, but Cloud liked to think that he had actually managed to adjust to being who he was – broken and almost-insane and all.

This time though, he could erase his mistakes as though they'd never happened. Aeris and he would be the only ones to know that things could have happened differently,  _had_  actually happened differently. And Cloud was fine with that – it was his burden to bear. If no one else knew how much he'd suffered, it was alright with him, because then they wouldn't have to know about how blood-thirsty Sephiroth would become, and how close the world would actually come to being completely obliterated when Cloud almost hadn't been strong enough.

When he'd been younger, an actual fifteen year old, he'd longed for glory and gold, for fame and name. And then he'd gotten it and wished he'd never left Nibelheim for cadet training. He wondered what would have happened if he'd never come to Midgar, never gotten to know Zack, never become Hojo's science homework. Would someone else have stepped up to the plate and stopped the end of the world? Or would Jenova have won? Maybe some other nameless infantryman would have become the hero – it was probably just fate that had resulted in Cloud being picked to go along with Sephiroth and Zack to Nibelheim anyway. Shinra wouldn't actually have been thoughtful enough to send someone on a mission back to their hometown on purpose.

He'd hit the nail on the head. Cloud had never felt worthy of the mantle that had been shoved upon him, had always wondered why he'd been practically hand-picked by Destiny to become a bloody Hero. It was all a bit too much to be just a coincidence – first the Nibelheim mission, then meeting Tifa in AVALANCHE, then falling into the church and opening his eyes to Aeris. Had he really been intended for this role all along? Aeris seemed to think so – she'd said that he would be the one to save the world. But if that was true, then why hadn't he been born stronger, better, smarter? Why had he been brought into the world as Cloud Strife, illegitimate weakling in a backwater mountain town? He'd practically had a bull's-eye painted on himself – he was a prime target for bullies and a total trouble magnet. If he'd really been born to save the world, shouldn't he have been at least blessed with  _some_ form of strength or unique ability? The only thing special about him was how absurdly pathetic he was.

 _Fall seven times, stand up eight_.

Yuffie had mentioned it before – an old proverb in Wutaian literature.

So Cloud had been born useless and pathetic just so he could get beaten and broken and crushed. The Planet wanted to see if he could pick himself up again? What would have happened if he hadn't found the strength to do so? Was the Planet really willing to take such a gamble? This wasn't some stupid video game. What was the bloody  _point_? If he was destined to be Mr Save-the-World, why not just  _give_  him strength and speed and smarts from the get-go? Why make him suffer and bleed every step of the way?

Why make sadness the price to pay?

_Ancients._

His head was aching from the philosophical marathon, so he decided to stop thinking about it. If there was one thing he liked about who he'd become, it was that he could, most of the time, control his thoughts and emotions so well that he could walk through fire and feel as though he was in a bed of water. Pain and heat and cold were just states of mind to him – he had that strong a command over his body and psyche.

_At last, something I'm good at._

He'd lost count of how many rounds he'd made, but his shirt was stuck to his body, and he was a waterfall of sweat. He probably stank too – he lifted up his right arm to take a sniff and nearly recoiled at the stench.

_Eau de cadet._

Suddenly the silence of the morning was broken by a cheesy trumpet call that reminded Cloud of the cheap Westerns Cid liked to watch. Shinra Company was the richest, most formidable empire in the world, and they couldn't even record a better alarm – had probably just stolen it off one of Cid's favorite gun-slinging shows.

_Goddamned penny-pinchers._

He slowed to a stop, making sure to walk evenly for awhile before he moved to stretch again. It wouldn't do to get a cramp – the instructors would show no mercy, and the cadets would just beat him to the ground for being such an embarrassment.

When he'd finally managed to get his breathing under control, he headed to the nearby faucet to wash some of the sweat off. Then he walked back to the now-empty bunks to change his shirt and towel off before going to the mess hall. Some of the others were already there, sleepily trying to eat their coffee, but the others were, for the most part, still in the bathroom trying to wake up.

Nothing woke Cloud up like the smell of Shinra garbage. And that was exactly what was sitting on his plate. The chalkboard claimed it was oatmeal and eggs – it looked more like the fur balls Red XIII sometimes hacked up.

Cloud took a seat at the far end of the cafeteria, keeping his back against the wall. He was pretty sure this had been his token place in the past, and he hoped he was right so that no one would accuse him of being in their seat and draw attention to him. He swallowed his gag reflex, and forced himself to take a nice, big spoonful of the Unidentified Food-ish Object.

He supposed he should be grateful that he'd never allowed himself to get used to proper home-made meals. Sometimes he'd had to hunt for his own fare, when provisions ran out. And then he'd have to make a fire and cook it if he didn't want to eat raw meat like an animal. Not that he didn't feel like an animal sometimes.

_Stop it. Just stop it._

He made it through half the plate before throwing in the towel, and gulped down his tasteless coffee before rising to dump his tray and grab his water bottle for class. The others in his bunk were already in the hall, some of them, like Cloud, had already finished and were just taking the time before classes to daydream about how they would be Big, Bad SOLDIERS.

Cloud already knew which of them would make it and which wouldn't.

He was almost out the door when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that made him turn slightly. A bright red head was attempting to drown itself in coffee.

_Reno?_

Cloud couldn't remember ever seeing Reno before the AVALANCHE gig with the reactors, but he was pretty sure that if Reno had somehow been sent back into the past with him then Aeris would have mentioned it. Which meant that Reno had been a cadet with Cloud, and Reno had known the details of Cloud's sordid past.

_Why didn't he say anything?_

Why had Reno allowed Cloud to believe that he was an ex-SOLDIER? Why hadn't Reno mentioned ever being in the same training group as Cloud, when everyone knew that Cloud was desperately trying to piece together the memories of his life before AVALANCHE?

_Bastard._

If Cloud ever woke up back in the future, he'd make sure to give the Turk a piece of his mind, and a nice big piece of First Tsurugi.

##

Barret remembered the first time he'd hugged Cloud. It had been a spur of the moment thing - he hadn't been thinking; had been so overjoyed and ecstatic and so ridiculously happy that he'd just grabbed the person nearest to him and  _crushed_.

Cloud had tensed and gone stiff as a board, but he hadn't lashed out. When Barret finally pulled back grinning, the pale, pinched look on Cloud's face instantly flattened his buoyant mood like a WEAPON landing on a chocobo.

Thinking he'd offended his friend, Barret had been about to apologize in his own gruff way when Cloud had offered him a sad half-smile. And then Barret realized that it wasn't that Cloud didn't like being hugged, it was just that it wasn't  _Barret_  he wanted hugging him.

Barret hadn't hugged Cloud again. He didn't need to see that heartbroken expression on the blond's face every time Cloud wished it was someone else's arms around him.

Now Cloud was gone to make sure Nibelheim never burned. When Tifa and Vincent had first told them about the time-traveling thing, Barret had wondered what they'd been smoking. Then he'd wondered what it meant for all of them. Reeve had puzzled about quantum physics and Relatives and Butterflies and Somebody's Cat until he realized they weren't listening.

The President of WRO had tried to explain, saying that their reality would change as Cloud changed the past, but that they wouldn't know any better because their memories and their lives and their surroundings would reflect the effects of Cloud's actions accordingly. Barret had walked off and punched a hole in a wall – with his gun-arm, of course. He wasn't as freaky strong as Cloud.

He wondered what it'd mean for him – how different things would be. Barret was happy with his life, comfortable now with the way things were. He'd fought hard for it – from actual gun-fights and guerilla tactics to intimidation techniques in the boardroom and on the oil-fields. Barret Wallace was a self-made man, even though he realized that he wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for Cloud's help. But it was  _his_  blood and  _his_ sweat and  _his_  tears that had taken the opportunity Cloud had presented him with and turned it into the enormous trust fund for Marlene and Denzel. Barret could give them everything and anything they wanted now – a far cry from a terrorist in a secret hideout bargaining with a mercenary about school fees and clandestine operations.

Barret knew that Cloud would ensure he was taken care of though – Cloud always did watch out for everyone else; would cut off his own arm if it meant making a friend happy.

But what would it be like to never have been friends with Cloud Strife, to never have fought by his side to free the world from fear?

He knew Cloud had it rough, rougher than the rest of them. And he suspected he knew why. So if Cloud now had a chance at happiness, Barret wasn't going to begrudge him that. Not after everything Cloud had done for him, not after everything Cloud had sacrificed for him. True, he didn't really like the object of Cloud's affections; but Cloud was his friend and friends supported each other. Or at the very least they didn't pull a Shinra on the people they owed their lives to. Barret might have been a rough and coarse man – AVALANCHE had had to be rough – but he was a softy at heart and everyone knew it. Barret would fight to get to where he was again if it meant that Cloud could have a shot at happiness.

Yuffie called him a teddy bear, and Barret had been secretly pleased.

He was getting old.

So Barret would cheer Cloud on – though if Reeve was right, he wouldn't know why he was cheering anyway. But one thing Barret did know – Cloud would succeed. Cloud would defeat Shinra and Jenova and DeepGround and anyone else that needed defeating, because he was Cloud Strife.

And Barret would be there with him somehow – he knew that.

He wondered what things would be like, and then he decided not to think about it because there was really nothing he could do except take each day as it came.

_Maybe we can hug tomorrow._

##

"PICK it UP, ladies! You think this is a game? Is THIS how you sorry asses are gonna run when the enemy's bearing down on your worthless hides? PICK it UP!"

Gunnery Sergeant Payne was exactly that – a pain. Every morning he had the cadets for PT, and every morning he would scream the same lines at them until his face, already perpetually red from his alcoholism, would become mottled and purple. His blustering had worked before, when the cadets had been new, but by now they'd all become quite accomplished at tuning him out.

Cloud simply reminded himself that the Gunny would eventually die of cirrhosis. He supposed he was being rather spiteful, but Gunnery Sergeant Payne had ridden him harder than anyone else – although it had probably been because Cloud was the weakest of the bunch, but that wasn't the point. Did the man have to be so stereotypically army?

The cadets were halfway through their rounds around the field, and already most of them were doubled over from the exertion – or from appendicitis. Cloud himself really wanted to just flop onto the ground – his private training earlier in the morning combined with the Gunny's yowling making passing out sound very tempting. But he knew that he needed to not only survive this, but excel. So he gritted his teeth and called upon every single ounce of willpower and self-respect in his exhausted, shaking body, and increased his pace. He could tell some of his group were wondering what was wrong with him – Cloud was usually the last of the bunch, and he'd rarely managed to make it this far at this speed without collapsing at least once. But Cloud ignored them and just focused on zoning out.

Around and around they went, until at last the Gunny gave a shrill whistle, and they stopped – most of the cadets throwing themselves to the ground in an attempt to rest a bit before the next set of drills.

Cloud kept walking on the spot. He knew he looked like crap now – his face was most definitely redder than Reno's sweat-drenched mane, his hair was sticky and  _everywhere_ , and his shirt had practically melded itself to his body. Not to mention that the dust that the cadets had kicked up from the tracks and the pollution coming into the training grounds from the rest of Midgar was most probably streaked all over his face – add that to the rest of his stinking, soaking, shaking body and he was  _stylin'_.

The whistle sounded again, and there was a collective groan as the cadets pulled themselves towards the cones that had been set up by their sadistic instructor. It was time for suicide drills.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

Honestly, Cloud didn't know how he'd managed to get through PT when he was feeling more exhausted than he'd ever had in his life. Not even taking on the Triplets and Sephiroth had worn him out this much. He supposed he should be proud of himself, but right now he just wanted to wake up on his old bedroll in his little hut. At least in that world, he'd been The Man.

The cadets moved as a collective slug, and they trudged along the hallways to their next class, not bothering to clean themselves off. It was hand-to-hand time. For some of them, it meant that they could take out all their hormone-induced aggression on others in the name of SOLDIER; but for the rest of them it was just another reason why Mondays sucked. Cloud remembered being beaten to a pulp more times than he could count in this class, and he thought that he could probably remember every crack and tear and bump on the blue mat that covered most of the hall. Once upon a time, the ugly blue thing had probably been meant to cushion the impact of falls, but now it just gave cause for uneven footing and more than one twisted ankle.

They were bellowed at by Staff Sergeant Jeffries, and they sorted themselves into some semblance of two lines, assuming their respective offensive or defensive positions. Then the katas began – mind-numbingly boring repetitions that were absolutely useless in a real fight. As if an opponent would actually use these cadet-level moves. Not only that, but the katas themselves were full of holes, so easily side-stepped that Cloud wanted to laugh. As it was, he concentrated on the steps, not wanting to get howled at by another sadistic instructor and risk drawing attention to himself. He was managing pretty well against his opponent for the day, a big burly boy from Costa del Sol who had bleached blond hair and a very dark tan and who was so stereotypically surfer-boy he even ended every sentence with the word "dude". His name was Matt, if Cloud remembered correctly, and he hung out with another del Sol kid: another tanned, tall boy who had dread-locks and who called himself a 'Rasta' or something like that. Fifteen year old Cloud had thought that they were kinda cool; this older Cloud thought they were kinda annoying.

He could tell Matt was surprised that he was managing to hold his own, especially so soon after PT. Usually Cloud would have been flat on the floor by now, but today Cloud refused to be anything less than the best. It was boring though, these senseless acts of martial garbage, and soon enough Cloud found himself zoning out and thinking about how First Tsurugi was doing.

He wondered if anyone would care enough to give Fenrir a rub-down before bed-time.

As it was, Cloud didn't notice the look Matt gave his Rasta-friend. If he had, he would've recognized the signal – it was Crush Strife Time.

Matt was supposed to guard with his left arm, but instead he shot his right fist out, straight at Cloud's nose. And Cloud  _reacted_.

It was instinct that screamed through him, racing through his body with all the force and brutality of a train wreck. He shifted his feet, twisted, clenching his stomach muscles, using his left hand to grab Matt's fist, his right arm coming in between them and latching onto Matt's bicep as he  _pulled_ ; then using his right shoulder Cloud flipped the surfer over and onto the mat, jerking his arm back at the last minute.

The resounding  _snap_  brought Cloud out of his battle-haze, and he stared in horror at the other boy's protruding radial bone. Matt was on the ground, crying out in agony, and Cloud hastily released his arm and stepped back. He hadn't meant to do it, had just instinctively used a move he'd seen Tifa pull enough times to figure out for himself.

"WHAT the FUCK is going on here?!"

Staff Sergeant Jeffries was suddenly  _right there_ , in Cloud's face. He didn't even spare the howling Matt a glance.

 _Oh sure, go for the natural blond_.

Cloud just looked back at him impassively. Did Jeffries  _really_  think he could intimidate Cloud with that clichéd routine?

_Give me SOME credit._

"Strife! I asked you a question! What the FUCK is going on? Is there any part of the kata that says that you're supposed to throw your opponent to the ground? What kind of DUMB SHIT are you?!"

Cloud just looked at him. Matt was still wailing.

"It wasn't Cloud's fault, sir."

Cloud spun around and stared. Reno was standing next to him, and actually  _defending_ him.

Jeffries was advancing on the red-head now, but to Reno's credit he just stood his ground and attempted to school his face into one of deference. Cloud could see the Turk in him even now.

"Explain."

Reno didn't even glance at Cloud. "Matt deviated from the kata and aimed a punch at Cloud's face, sir."

Jeffries turned his beady eyes towards Cloud, and the blond tried to mask his shock. What was Reno up to? Why was he defending him? They hadn't been friends, or Cloud would've remembered it. Reno was a street-rat, the kind of person who only looked out for Number One and who didn't do something for nothing. Was Reno from the future, then? Was that why he was being, well,  _supportive_  of Cloud? Or did he have something up his sleeve? Defending Cloud like this was going to get him into trouble with some of the other boys, because Matt was quite a popular guy, and Cloud most definitely  _wasn't_.

"That true, Strife?" Jeffries really didn't seem to notice that Matt had passed out. None of the other boys were helping him though – they didn't want to incur the wrath of their instructor for the  _dude_.

Cloud nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Jeffries attempted to stare him down, but Cloud just stared right back at him. He tried to put on a mask of deference, but he knew it was just plain indifference on his face when Jeffries sneered and looked madder.

"Drop down and give me 200."

Cloud debated grunting an "oo-rah" back at the Sergeant, and thought the better of it, dropping to the ground with nothing more than a "Sir, yes sir".

Jeffries turned back to the other boys and ordered two of them to drag Matt to the infirmary. Reno was still standing there, not looking at Cloud, but somehow the blond knew that Reno was watching him intently. He didn't react though, didn't even glance at the future Turk. He didn't know what to think. Why was Reno helping him out? What did he want? Was he from the future too?

Then Cloud just cursed himself. He hadn't wanted to draw any attention to himself, hadn't wanted anyone to notice anything different about him. And then he'd gone and pulled a Zangan-special on a boy twice his size.

The thought of the move he'd used reminded him of Tifa. He wondered how she was doing.

Was she calling him a selfish bastard now? Or maybe a useless coward?

He doubted it though. Tifa had always understood him. When he'd been younger, he'd loved her as one would love a dream, a lady-love for an errant knight. But later, after everything, he had loved her simply as the kind-hearted sister she had come to be. After Meteor, he'd debated settling down with her, maybe attempting some form of a relationship. But that would've been an insult to her – so he hadn't tried, had simply let her know in his own way that she would always be his almost-home.

Settling down with her would've been an insult to  _him_.

His muscles were aching, and Cloud thought with some amusement that this was an easy way of getting extra training in without making it look like he wanted any. But he really didn't want to have to get into anymore trouble than was absolutely necessary. He'd been lucky this time – had Reno not stepped in, Cloud would've been either severely punished or kicked out of the program. And that wouldn't have been good.

The red-head had turned to look at him now that Jeffries was screeching at some other unfortunate soul on the other side of the hall. Cloud refused to look up at him though.

_What the hell is Reno up to?_

##

Reno sauntered through Edge, heading for Seventh Heaven. He liked being a Turk, liked how people gave his suit a wide berth. Even if he was just out for a stroll, people always assumed he was on some top-secret mission, and he liked how the children looked at him in awe, the women with lust, and the men with envy.

Reno was a bastard and proud of it.

He didn't hesitate at the 'Closed' sign. He and AVALANCHE had the kind of special relationship that came from saving Cloud Strife's ass. And Reno was a regular enough customer at Seventh Heaven that Tifa even knew his favorite drink.

 _Beautiful_ _ **and**_ _smart_.

He sashayed in, swinging his hips and whistling some show-tune that Elena had recently downloaded onto her phone. Really, what was she  _thinking?_ A Turk with such a ra-ra ring-tone was just  _asking_  to be disrespected.

Tifa was just standing there, looking utterly miserable and staring at nothing in particular. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had upset her this much.

 _Fucking emo blondie_.

Reno slid jauntily onto a stool across from where she was standing, and habit made her move to mix his drink without looking at him or acknowledging him. He was a little crushed – he'd only bought this suit yesterday.

He supposed he should ask, but he really didn't want to know.

"He's gone."

Reno didn't react to Vincent's sudden appearance and breaking of the silence: he forced himself to remain slouching casually over the bar. Then suddenly Valentine was at his elbow and Reno was very proud of himself for not even tensing.

_This is why I'm hot._

He took a long drink from the glass Tifa slid across to him – and contemplated asking why they were acting like Strife was gone from the world. Had Blondie died or something?

"He's gone back in time."

Reno couldn't control himself this time. He choked and sputtered on his mojito and struggled not to bellow with laughter. Tifa might have been out of it, but the woman had a temper. And Vincent was half-monster, half-Turk.

 _They aren't the same thing_.

Tifa's fists clenched, and Vincent settled onto the stool to Reno's left – the Turk didn't miss how Valentine angled himself so that he could plug Reno full of Cerberus' bullets before the red-head could cry "uncle".

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

Reno knew that Valentine had been a Turk – had done his own research about Golden-Claw. Apparently the man had been a damned fine agent too, before Hojo had gotten his hands on him.

Now he was just freaky.

Tifa had started mopping mechanically at the mess Reno had made, and he stared through her as he pondered this latest development. Strife tended to get tangled up in the most bizarre plots and occurrences – the man had some serious issues, and only a fool wouldn't have figured out why. And Reno was not a fool, had made a name for himself as a smart man, a cunning and ruthless agent who always knew things he shouldn't. But even with all his carefully acquired knowledge he had never quite figured out how Cloud Strife had managed to save the world twice when he was so weak and un-hero-like.

"Why?" Reno voiced at last. He didn't think the Planet did refunds.

"To stop Nibelheim."

Reno was still trying to get his head around the whole time-travel thing, and the fact that Beauty and the Beast believed in it. And now apparently Strife was gone to prevent the entire Sephiroth fiasco from ever happening.

He looked at Valentine. True, the man had his issues too – anyone who locked themselves in a coffin for more than twenty years had to be seriously whacked in the head. But the dark-haired man was an ex-Turk, and that counted for something. If he seriously believed in this quantum babble then Reno would have to believe in it too.

"Good luck with that." Reno snorted, turning back to his drink. Tifa spun around to glare at him, and secretly he felt pleased with himself for shaking that glum look off her face. Not that that had been his intention at all: Reno just enjoyed nettling people, relished provoking them into revealing things about themselves that they didn't want anyone to know. He liked having options.

Vincent hadn't reacted at all, and Reno wasn't really surprised.

 _Once a Turk, always a Turk_.

He had their attention now though, and he took a moment to preen aggravatingly.

"We were cadets together."

At that even Vincent's eyebrows shot up.

_Score one for the new generation._

_This is how we do it._

Tifa was looking at him eagerly now, and under ordinary circumstances Reno would've denied her just because he liked annoying people. But this was far from ordinary – and really, she was far too beautiful to deny.

Pity she only had eyes for Strife the Sad.

He hesitated though – he really didn't want to be the one to tell them the truth, although he had a feeling they already knew it. But he honestly didn't want to be the idiot who said that Cloud Strife was a wimpy little nobody who'd been the laughing stock of the cadets.

Reno had never had a death wish.

_Unlike some people._

"Cloud wasn't the biggest of guys back then." There – as subtly and snidely as only a Turk could.

 _I'm so fly_.

##

Cadet Reno stared at the spiky blond head in front of him and wondered if he was still suffering from the after-effects of Saturday night's alcohol-poisoning race.

Because he was pretty sure that Cloud Strife had never been this…well,  _cool_.

As he watched Cloud move through his push-ups, he tried to figure out what was different about the blond, and it wasn't just this surprising jump in ability or the overflow of confidence – he'd noticed the way the little blond had practically stared down Staff Sergeant Jeffries.

He wondered when Cloud had changed from moving like he wanted everyone to treat him as a tough guy and leave him alone, to moving like he knew everyone would leave him alone because he was dangerous and they knew it.

The Cloud from Saturday night was a shorty with a chip on his shoulder the size of the Plate.

This Cloud had a burden on his shoulders the weight of the Plate.

The red-head hadn't really paid attention to the blond before – he hadn't been worth it. Sure, he'd picked on him for awhile, until he'd found out that Cloud was a bastard.

While Reno had never been outside of Midgar, he knew enough about the world to know that illegitimate children were treated the same everywhere. It wasn't so bad in the slums – half the children didn't know which of their mother's customers was their dad.

 _Must be worse in the Boondocks_.

So he'd backed off, and watched as the others picked on and made fun of the kid for his height, his build, his hair, his accent, his paternity, his name, his hillbilly background, everything. Reno supposed he could have helped the blond out – they did after all have two things in common: utter ignorance about their paternity, and a strong dislike for all those kids with daddies to take them to ball-games and shit like that.

If Reno had been a different person, if he hadn't had to fend for himself and look out for Number One all the time, he probably would have been a little nicer to the kid who was in  _way_  over his spiky blond head. But although Reno disliked those other boys with a Mom and a Dad and a nice little roof over their heads, he disliked weakness even more.

And the little blond was  _weak_.

Or at least he  _had_  been Saturday night. Now though, there was only steel in his baby blue eyes – steel and a cold fire that did not bode well for those that didn't watch themselves. And Reno was wondering what exactly had happened to the retard who had glared and sulked and flunked his way through most of the cadet program.

This Cloud's weaknesses weren't the type to be exploited or mocked, Reno knew. And he wondered how he knew that when he didn't even know what had happened to turn Strife into an old man with a boy's face.

Reno would bide his time though – patience was a virtue and all that jazz. Time would reveal more than interrogations and mind games and espionage ever could. Sooner or later, Cloud would show his hand. And Reno would be there to share in the winnings.

 _I'm so fly_.

##

Zack Fair strolled along the corridor towards the General's office at exactly 12PM. He was late – as usual – rules and regulations required him to report to work by 9AM six days a week. But Zack had his privileges as The Man's Right-Hand Man, and really, only the General was ever at work before 10AM.

Sephiroth was in his office by 6AM, most days.

But the silver-haired man tended to overlook Zack's transgressions – and sometimes Zack wondered if it was because of the whole Angeal affair.

He scowled momentarily. He really didn't want to spoil his day by thinking about it.

_Think happy thoughts._

Invariably his mind moved to his favorite subject: his self-proclaimed position as Sephiroth's "Let's Be More Human" Mentor. It was one of the reasons why he was always cheerful around the older man – Sephiroth was stern enough for the both of them.

 _Someone needs to discover sugar_.

Zack had started his Operation Humanize slowly, subtly. First by getting the General to realize that Zack really wasn't interested in screwing him or screwing with him – that had been  _hard_. Sephiroth had been surrounded by manipulative, selfish people all his life – and even though Zack had managed to worm his way past the silver-haired man's walls, the effects of a lifetime of suspicion were obvious in the General's communication skills (or lack thereof). Sephiroth didn't talk much, didn't ask questions because he always drew his own conclusions from his observations and wealth of knowledge. When it came to people, the man was right 90% of the time because 90% of the people he dealt with were either dumb or had ulterior motives or both. But when it came to the 10% of people who truly meant well, Sephiroth had to be constantly reminded that Communication Was The Key To A Healthy Relationship.

Zack figured the best way to get Sephiroth to see people as more than idiots was for him to get to know more people. Easier said than done. Everyone tended to act funny around the General – from becoming tongue-tied super-klutzes on fainting sprees, to morphing into rabid fans with raging libidos – and continued exposure to those sorts only served to prove how right Sephiroth was. So Zack had gone for the second best option: the wonderful world of film.

Problem was, Sephiroth had probably never watched a fictional work in his life. And Zack had no idea what he'd like.

He'd gone for the middle ground – a horror movie. The two hours spent on his couch had him alternating between hiding behind the popcorn and wanting to smack his superior officer silly. Because Sephiroth had been so ridiculously derisive towards the characters and the plot and the setting – did the ghost really have to be a jilted lover with long black hair and a torn white dress? – that he hadn't stopped passing snide remarks.

It had taken Zack two weeks to convince the man to watch another movie with him. And he'd spent that two weeks in the video store trying to figure out what would tickle the General's fancy, or at least involve him enough in the story that he wouldn't keep commenting about how imbecilic everyone and everything was.

Somehow Zack didn't think that his friend would appreciate chick-flicks.

Then he'd found it – The Bone Collector.

It really wasn't the kind of show Zack usually watched – he preferred action movies or comedies. But Sephiroth would just criticize the action scenes, and Zack really doubted the man was into slapstick or lewd humor.

They'd watched the movie, and Sephiroth had been so intrigued he hadn't once moved his eyes from the screen. Zack had taken the opportunity to stuff his friend full of popcorn.

After that, Zack felt very proud of himself. He now knew what the General liked to watch – and it was their little secret. So he'd headed on down to the video store and sought out another intelligent crime story with characters that would help Sephiroth learn to see people as more than just idiots. That was when he'd spotted it: CSI.

Zack had had his misgivings – and he hadn't been sure which series to get. So he'd picked up the first season of all three, and cajoled Sephiroth into coming over.

Sephiroth had been  _hooked_.

It was as close to an obsession as Zack had ever seen – the General speedily watched through all of CSI: Gold Saucer, CSI: Costa del Sol, and CSI: Junon, and then he'd watched all of them again, and again, and again. Sephiroth had become so involved in the shows and characters that after Danny married Lindsay, he'd turned a punching bag into a puddle of sand.

_Boom._

Zack chuckled to himself – sometimes Sephiroth was too funny for words. The man had a sense of humor – dry, sarcastic, and so condescending that it was actually hilarious sometimes – but it was the little things that Sephiroth did that made Zack laugh out loud. Such as the time the General had used the ladies' room because Zack had somehow burst the pipes in the men's (well  _really_ , someone should have mentioned that using Materia around Shinra plumbing was a Very Bad Idea).

The men's room was fixed the very next day – and it was only because he was the General that Sephiroth hadn't been questioned about the three hyperventilating women found under the sinks.

As he neared Sephiroth's office, the door opened and Tseng walked out. Zack grinned at him, and would have stopped to chat had Tseng not received a call that made him rush towards the elevator after throwing Zack a quick greeting. He liked Tseng, they got along fine (then again, Zack got along fine with most people). Tseng had even mentioned several times that Zack would have made a damned fine Turk – which was the best compliment anyone could ever receive from him. It was true that Zack could be sneaky, could be as cunning and ruthless as they came, and although the Turks were seen as spies and assassins most of the time, Zack knew that within their ranks was a kind of camaraderie and bond to rival SOLDIER's.

It was just that the Turks had to be unobtrusive, and Zack liked his swords big.

_That sounded wrong._

He flung open the door to Sephiroth's office with a flourish, and belted out a very perky "Good Morning" to a very long-suffering General.

Sephiroth didn't even bother commenting on how late Zack was, or the fact that it was already afternoon.

So Zack just sauntered in jauntily, and threw himself into the plush leather chair across the table from the General. He put his feet up on the table, and smiled to himself as he saw the General look at his boots in distaste.

 _Our morning ritual_.

"So, what's new?" Zack relaxed back into the soft seat, having long ago molded it to his shape. He spent more time in Sephiroth's office than his own anyway.

Sephiroth ignored him.

Zack grinned to himself – Sephiroth usually only ignored him when he was in a good mood, or as good a mood as the General could be in without killing things. Had Sephiroth been annoyed or upset, Zack would've received either an insult or an order or a towering stack of paperwork.

_Good morning to me._

He watched Sephiroth type on his computer for awhile, and thought some more about his Get-Seph-A-Life-tis. Sephiroth really needed more friends, people whom he could spend time with and talk to and not worry about being used by. But so far, none of the other SOLDIERS seemed up to the task – the First Class were close to the General, true, but there was still a gulf there that the men didn't seem to want to cross. It was a Shinra-wide consensus that Zack was the only one who could make Sephiroth relax, and everyone seemed content to leave it at that.

Not Zack though.

He knew that Sephiroth saw him as a friend, an almost-confidante. But that wasn't enough – Sephiroth needed someone to make him smile, someone to help with the loneliness, that immeasurable distance between Sephiroth and the rest of the world.

Problem was, candidates were coming up short. Whoever it was had to be strong and smart: powerful enough to earn Sephiroth's respect, tough enough that the General wouldn't have to worry about their safety when he wasn't there, and wise enough to understand a man born to hold the world in thrall.

Zack's gaze fell on a stack of papers on the General's desk; perfectly arranged to run exactly along one side and share a corner with the table before running exactly along the side of the desk nearest to Zack.

_Cadets._

Well, if there was no one in SOLDIER right now who could step up to the plate, then maybe Zack needed to look to the next generation.

_Boom._

##

Cloud was  _exhausted_. It had been a long and tiring day, made all the more nerve-wracking by his little escapade in hand-to-hand training. Word had traveled fast, and by the time Cloud had sat down to the putrid mess that was his lunch, every other cadet was looking at him funny.

 _Fuck you_.

He'd ignored them though, more focused on trying to figure out Reno's motivations. And he admitted that he was still a little mad with the red-head for not revealing that they'd been cadets together.

He was pretty sure this Reno wasn't from the future – surely he would've said  _something_  by now. Although, this being Reno, Cloud really wouldn't be surprised if the Turk was deliberately withholding information just to annoy him.

After lunch was Battle Comms class – where they learned the phonetic alphabet (Cloud was pretty sure even Zack couldn't remember all his Alpha-Bravo-Charlie-Deltas), and how to make their own radios. They would be tested on it, Cloud remembered. He'd barely managed to assemble his own radio in time to rattle off the right signal – but this time he'd made sure to pay attention to the code-words they'd need to learn, and the gestures for when silence was necessary.

After Battle Comms had been First Aid – where they learned how to handle basic medical emergencies, and how to know if they were suffering from concussions. Cloud had completely zoned out in the class – he'd been beaten up enough times to become an expert medic. Even Barret had winced when he'd seen Cloud fix his own broken ribs.

Then they'd had Battle Tactics class – which was more of a glorified recount of Sephiroth's numerous strategies than anything. Cloud remembered paying plenty of attention in that class before – when he'd been eager to learn about how his idol thought. This time though, he'd sat there sick to his stomach with the memories of just how malicious Sephiroth's plans could be.

He'd almost skipped dinner, not trusting himself to be able to handle the food or the whispers from the rest of the cadets. But he'd forced himself to eat anyway, knowing he'd need the energy for his private training in the morning. He'd set himself some goals – 20 successful chin-ups and 50 successful crunches by the end of the month – easy enough to achieve. And it wasn't so much the gossip going around that bothered him – Cloud was an adult, and these were just kids – but it was more the fact that his name and Reno's had been linked, and that had made Cloud edgy for some reason.

It didn't help that the red-head hadn't said anything to Cloud yet. A part of the blond was itching to slam the future Turk against the wall and demand an explanation, but he knew that that would just get him nowhere. Reno wasn't easily intimidated – growing up in the slums and an innate Turkishness made him a very hard person to crack – and Cloud didn't want to risk revealing more of himself than he already had. Reno was an expert at needling people into letting secrets slip – and Cloud had plenty of secrets. It would've been overwhelming had he not had years of practice bottling himself up.

As it was, by the time he'd taken a quick shower and crashed into bed, he just wanted to close his eyes and slip into a dreamless slumber. But he forced himself to remain alert, at least until the others' breathing evened out. Cloud wouldn't put it past Matt's friends to attempt something on him.

_Paranoid, much?_

Cloud frowned. These were just  _kids_ , would they really try to kill him in his sleep? Years of being on guard 24/7 said yes, but the more exhausted part of his mind was just telling him to relax and  _go to sleep_. He didn't though, preferring to rely on well-honed instincts instead of tired pleas. He knew that if he'd been his older self, no one would be able to get near enough to him to strike without him waking up and slicing their heads off. But he was just a skinny little fifteen year old here, and he was unarmed. He wasn't taking any chances.

It didn't take long for the other cadets to fall asleep, but still Cloud waited, counting each of their breaths until he was absolutely positive that they were really out cold. And then he unclenched his fists and let himself go.

As he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if it had been Zack's dark spikes he'd seen out of the corner of his eye during Battle Tactics.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (1): The proverb "fall seven times, stand up eight" is an actual Japanese proverb.
> 
> A/N (2): The "Relatives and Butterflies and Somebody's Cat" bit in the Barret part of this chapter refers to the Theory of Relativity, the Butterfly Effect, and Schroedinger's Cat.
> 
> A/N (3): The "Boom" in Zack's part is Danny Messer's catch-phrase from CSI:NY.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

Reno's voice always reminded Cloud of italics. He didn't know why. It suited the red-head somehow. He was just so… _slanted_.

There was no other word for it.

Reno was never the most straightforward of people, and he was definitely not the straight and narrow kind of guy. As for his sexual preferences…well, Cloud doubted Reno was straight even there.

He couldn't believe he was even thinking about  _Reno's_  sexuality.  _Reno_  of all people.

_I need to get laid._

With a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his messy blond hair. How long had it been since he'd sought relief? In the future, in the world where he was Cloud Strife, he certainly hadn't lacked offers. It had always been tempting to just hook up with a nameless face and a gorgeous body, but he'd never allowed himself to. He wouldn't trust some stranger with himself, with something so intimate. He'd always just stuck to that one particular partner: probably the only person in the world who wouldn't judge or misunderstand.

In this time though, as a fifteen year old wimp, he didn't think he'd find it so easy. Sure, he was pretty, he knew that – Hojo had called him so enough times that he'd come to hate looking at himself in the mirror, had come to regard his reflection with a kind of vile loathing. He didn't want to be pretty, didn't want to be seen as some sexual object. He wasn't above using his looks to get his way – Cloud was man enough to know when he needed to be a woman, or woman _ly_. And even though he knew that he could easily find someone, some other cadet or SOLDIER even who would be willing to tumble in the sheets with fifteen year old him, it felt wrong somehow.

Not when  _he_  was here, and alive and sane and oh so wonderfully perfect.

Though even when they were standing right in front of each other, he'd only ever been almost there – always just out of reach, always just temptation and taunts, always just a whispered moan in the night.

 _Only almost here_.

##

Zack was watching the little blond again. He hadn't believed it when he'd heard about how the kid had broken another cadet's arm and apparently hadn't even broken a sweat. Jeffries was a no-nonsense man, and, unlike Payne, the Staff Sergeant could be trusted to remain sober on the job. So if Jeffries had insisted that it was the tiny little nobody from the mountains who'd somehow thrown a boy twice his size to the ground and snapped his radial bone clean through his skin, then it had to be true. Zack had seen the x-rays, had spoken to the doctors in charge and they'd all said the same thing. First, there was no way the Matt kid was going to be able to complete cadet training this year – his arm would take months to heal, even with Materia and potions. Second, that it had been a clean, proper break, the kind that was only possible with the proper application of strength and torque. Which stumped Zack, because even  _he_  couldn't break limbs that cleanly. He wondered how the little cadet had done it, when he looked like he could barely even throw a punch hard enough to make Zack stumble.

Jeffries hadn't seen the technique the cadet had used, had only heard the snap of Matt's bone breaking and seen the del Sol boy on the ground, with Strife standing over him looking horrified and panicked. Further discussions revealed that Strife (what the hell kind of name was  _that_  anyway _-_ someone was just  _asking_  for trouble) was the quintessential runt of the litter – a no-talent nobody who'd tried and failed more times than Zack changed bed-partners.

So where had this sudden ruthless ability come from? For there was no doubt about it: the little blond was  _ruthless_. To have pulled something like this on another cadet, even though, according to Jeffries, the other kid had provoked it, was plain cold. Zack had never harmed another cadet or SOLDIER like that, not even in the throes of his most violent fury. He knew that Sephiroth had though, but that wasn't his fault. Sephiroth just didn't know his own strength sometimes. This Nibelheim kid, on the other hand, he must have known what he was doing – must have had plenty of practice. And somehow that saddened Zack; the fact that a fifteen year old boy had had to master such deadly tactics in order to defend himself.

_How many times were you beaten to the ground before that?_

A part of him bore a grudging respect though, even as another part of him was a little disgusted with what he'd imagined of the boy's life. This kid obviously wasn't the kind to bend over and take it; this little chocobo had  _balls_.

And balls were a very good thing to have.

So Zack had decided to do his own recon on the boy. Not only because he'd promised Sephiroth he'd do it (even though the General had completely ignored him when he'd said it), but because Zack's curiosity was piqued. Heck, even  _Tseng_  had been skulking around spying on the kid – word had traveled that fast. Zack had burst into the General's office with the news only to see his friend already reading a report on the matter. If Zack had been anyone else, if he hadn't trained himself to speak 'Sephiroth' ages ago, he would've thought the General was unimpressed and simply annoyed with the extra paperwork. But Zack was Zack, and he'd seen the sharp focus in the General's green eyes, the way they were only slightly narrowed and the way his cheekbones were thrown into sharper relief by the set of his jaw.

Sephiroth was intrigued.

It was that more than anything that had made Zack run around Shinra wheedling information out of anyone who might know anything. The instructors all said the same thing though – Cloud Strife was useless. And none of them could explain this bizarre occurrence, some of them chalking it up to sheer dumb luck.

Payne had even suggested that Matt had tripped on his own and Strife had tried to catch him.

_Wanker._

When he'd reported the fruits of his labor back to Sephiroth, the General had simply glanced at him and then turned to his computer and flagged Strife's personnel file. It was a clear sign – the discussion was over for now. So Zack had trotted on out and spoken to Tseng about it. At least the Turk had seemed remotely interested – and he'd done his own digging. But a comparison by the two only served to prove how Turk-ish Zack could be – he'd found out the exact same things that Tseng had.

Now Zack was back and watching the kid from the shadows of the hallway. The cadets were in sword training, and they looked absolutely ridiculous. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves with those katas, not even against an ageing grandmother armed only with a bright pink umbrella. But the whole point of the routine was to instill the basics in them, and to teach them to view their weapons as an extension of themselves and not as a stupid piece of metal in their hands. Those who grasped this concept were in a much better position when it came to actual SOLDIER training.

It seemed Strife would have no problems at all.

He moved with a kind of even grace that Zack had only seen in the General – the kind of familiarity and intelligence that could only come from years of living by the sword. Zack could tell that the instructors were a little dumbstruck by this – they were observing the blond closely, but the kid, to Zack's amusement and amazement, had completely zoned out. His sky blue eyes were glassy and turned inward, and he looked like he was  _day-dreaming_. While beating another cadet to a pulp with a dented metal pole that might have been a practice sword ten years ago.

_Awesome!_

Zack was grinning to himself, he knew. And he was bouncing on his feet slightly – this was just too fascinating. The kid was obviously well-trained, and had probably been hiding his incredible talent for some reason or other. But now he was pulling out most of the stops, and it was obvious that he was a Somebody. He was a Perfect Candidate for Zack's Operation Humanize.

All at once the SOLDIER First felt terrible. He had never been the type to use others, because he hated being used himself. And yet here he was, looking at a fifteen year old kid who'd probably been used and abused all his life like a tool – a means to an end. It was downright hypocritical of him, and he hated himself all of a sudden. Hadn't he learned enough from Angeal and Genesis?

_Don't even go there._

Shaking off the dark vice that gripped his heart whenever he thought about his former mentor, Zack tried to think the Operation through. Sure, the blond would be perfect for Sephiroth – he was obviously highly skilled with swords.

_That sounded wrong._

What was it with him and swords? Zack shook his head, aware that anyone who saw him now would most likely think that he had gone insane, skulking about poorly lit Shinra corridors and muttering to himself. But he knew that whoever it was who saw him would just chalk it up to him being Zack Fair anyway, so he wasn't concerned. No, Zack was more concerned with how to go about approaching the blond kid without having any ulterior motives. He supposed he should try to befriend the kid first, maybe get to know him a little better and see if he really could be The One. It would take time, Zack knew. He could already tell from the way the blond held himself that he was the standoffish type - aloof and wary and suspicious by nature.

_Just like Seph._

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea, introducing this cadet to the General. He'd worked hard at getting the silver-haired man to open up, to relax, and if this cadet came along with his frigid eyes and ruthless nature, it might just make the General believe that such behavior was alright. Then all of Zack's hard work would have been for nothing.

On the other hand, maybe the Strife kid would be able to understand the General better, seeing as how they were so similar in the way they conducted themselves – cold, controlled, and commanding.

Whatever the case, Zack wasn't about to rush into it. And he was going to keep his options open. Zack might have been a happy-go-lucky carefree type, with a gambler's love of risk, but he wasn't about to put all his eggs in one basket. Not when the happiness of a friend was in the pot. No, he'd play his cards carefully with this one. Maybe search out some other candidates for his Get-Seph-A-Life-tis. If Spiky was triumphant in the end then that would mean that he was the best man for the job.

_I sound like Shinra._

Zack's mouth turned down slightly. He never wanted to become even remotely similar to the Fat President. But here he was, plotting and planning to use cadets like pawns. He tried to reassure himself that he was doing this for a friend, and  _really_ , which cadet wouldn't want to be The One For The General? It was practically the only reason they joined cadet training.

Sighing, Zack turned to walk away. It was no use. He had never been the manipulative sort, had never liked using others for his own purposes. Sure, he did it sometimes, but that was only because he'd had to – for SOLDIER. Sephiroth was important to him, they were friends, but Zack would never be able to live with himself if he simply used someone to make his friend happy. No, Zack would either approach the blond with the sole intention of being his friend, or not at all.

He turned to glance back at the cadets training. And nearly tripped over his feet. A pair of brilliant blue eyes was staring straight at him, coolly assessing, face completely expressionless but not hostile. And suddenly Zack felt very much like an errant child, caught in a lie by an adult and not knowing what to do because fear and trepidation had pretty much blanked out everything upstairs.

Then the eyes turned away, and Zack could breathe again. It was odd, that one suspended moment in time when Zack had suddenly felt like something was going on here that was completely out of place, out of order. The kid's eyes had reminded Zack of Sephiroth's when he thought Zack wasn't looking – old, knowing, and hard.

_Who ARE you?_

That one look pretty much cemented his resolve. He would get to know the cadet.

It wouldn't be hard to like him, Zack mused, watching as several other cadets jeered (for absolutely NO reason) at the little blond who didn't even deign to acknowledge their immaturity with a change in expression. This kid was obviously a fighter, obviously someone who had the kind of strength of character that could only come from being beaten to the ground again and again and having to rise on his own each time. He was tough, and that was a good thing. Zack liked tough people, liked those who refused to give up, refused to be anything other than the best that they could be.

But the kid was also someone who had obviously suffered, and Zack's heart went out to him. He didn't know what the blond could have suffered to make him such an old man with a boy's face – he was only fifteen after all – but the dark-haired SOLDIER knew it had to have been pretty terrible. Zack was a caring and generous person by nature, and, even though he had never been bullied in his life, he hated bullies with a passion. He liked to help others, liked to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. It was why he'd become a SOLDIER. Sure, he'd been impressed by Sephiroth – who wouldn't be? But more than that, Zack had joined Shinra purely to become strong enough to stand up for what he believed in. He'd always fancied himself as something of a knight in shining armor, always believed in honor and chivalry and compassion. And he was determined to help the little blond cadet become who he was born to be. The kid had talent, and obviously no lack of skill or experience. As to why he'd hidden it in the first place, Zack would find out sooner or later – Zack was soldier enough to know when he needed to be a Turk. But for now, all that would matter was making friends with a boy who stood alone, hiding his loneliness behind frigid blue eyes and pale, tight lips.

##

_I need a cigarette._

Cloud's chest was aching, and he longed for the familiar feeling of inhaling the toxic mixture of nicotine and tar into his lungs. It wouldn't do, of course. Smoking right now would only affect his stamina, and he was working hard on improving it. When he had been genetically-enhanced, it hadn't made a difference. Mako and Jenova cells had made him practically immune to illness and disease – and he'd only smoked because he wanted a high. Even if smoking HAD affected his fighting ability somehow, he hadn't noticed. It wasn't like there was anyone alive who could keep up with his speed anyway. Cloud knew he was good, knew he was the best, but he felt no joy at the fact, took no pride in it. Because the events of recent days had only served to remind him of how much of his ability he owed to Hojo. Without the experiments, without the enhancements, he was weak, ineffectual. His skill with the sword had only been as a result of the part of Zack that he'd refused to let go of anyway. And he didn't mind it – Zack was the true hero, not him. Whenever Cloud took down another enemy, whenever he killed again for the sake of the world, he was doing it in Zack's place. Because Zack was the reason Cloud was alive, Zack was the true master of the Buster Sword, and Zack was the one who should have saved the world and lived to enjoy the fruits of his labor. It was true that Cloud had left Nibelheim to be a hero, had wanted to join SOLDIER and take on tough missions to prove himself – but he realized now that he would never have become a Somebody had it not been for Hojo and Zack.

Hojo had made things easier for Cloud, had made him the man that would go on to become the most respected warrior on the planet. And a part of Cloud actually wished that he had some of that tweaking now, because maybe it would help him make SOLDIER and become somebody worth knowing.

But short cuts come at a price, and Cloud knew he wouldn't want to pay for a jumpstart again. The first time had been the last time. This time he would make it on his own - never mind the fact that he was skinny and short and downright girly-looking. He HAD to get stronger, better, faster. It was his only chance, THEIR only chance.

He really needed to smoke though. Or at least get drunk enough to forget about the ache in his chest that came from seeing Zack again. It had been almost surreal, the sight of the dark-haired SOLDIER watching him during sword training. He'd stood rooted to the spot, muscles completely frozen in place, and a part of him had been glad for that – otherwise he'd probably have run over and launched himself at his long-dead friend and bawled his eyes out.

It had been painful though, because seeing Zack again had opened the floodgates of his memory and Cloud had been inundated with visions of Zack – lying on a cliff all broken and bleeding and yet somehow still managing to reassure Cloud that everything was going to be alright, that Cloud would be  _safe_ ; sitting in the back of a pick-up and trying to act as though the world hadn't fallen down around them and that they hadn't just escaped a mad scientist's cage after God knows how long; Zack standing proud and defiant in the face of men and monsters and machines, his Buster Sword gleaming in the moonlight like his glowing deep blue eyes; Zack, Zack,  _Zack._

This Zack was younger than Cloud remembered, his black spikes not nearly as long, his face less worn and weary. But there had been something in his eyes that had made Cloud a little uneasy, because he couldn't for the life of him ever remember Zack looking at him with such a coolly assessing gaze. Zack had always had a smile on his face or a concerned frown to his eyes whenever he looked at Cloud. And Cloud couldn't help but wonder what he'd done to make his friend look at him like he was a stranger.

 _We aren't friends yet, idiot_.

Sometimes Cloud wondered if they'd ever really been friends, if it hadn't just been his imagination misconstruing Zack's concern for someone so obviously weaker than himself. Sure, they'd spoken often about their hometowns, and Cloud could remember the weight of Zack's arm around his shoulders more than once. But friends were more than just people with a shared history, weren't they? Friends were  _equals_ , and Cloud had never really been on par with Zack. Had always been just one step behind, trailing after the dark-haired man like a pathetic little puppy, and when Zack had died it had taken him further away from Cloud than ever; and it was then that Cloud had realized that he could never,  _would_  never, measure up to the other man no matter how hard he tried. Because Zack was wonderful and warm and smart and strong and popular, and Cloud was the useless little nobody who'd gotten him killed.

No matter. Zack was alive here, and Nibelheim was a ways off. Cloud would not let Zack die, would not allow Sephiroth to go crazy. If he died trying, so be it. Cloud had always felt that it had been sheer dumb luck that had gotten him so far anyway – luck and an angel with a pink ribbon in her hair. And if he died, then maybe he wouldn't have to spend his nights wishing he was somebody more special, someone worthy of  _his_  bed and attention.

 _Goddammit_.

Did everything have to come back to  _him_?

 _Duh_.

Of course it did. He had ruled Cloud's entire life ever since he'd first seen him on the news, and all the death and destruction and mayhem in the world would never change that. Cloud's entire life had been devoted to him – first towards attempting to become a SOLDIER to get close to him; then chasing him all around the world in an attempt to put an end to his insane plot; then just mourning him and thinking about him and wishing he'd had the guts to just  _take_  what he wanted when he'd had the chance.

_Well, now's your chance. Go ask him to marry you, chocobo-head._

Cloud wondered what Sephiroth would do if he got down on one knee and proposed to him. Probably run him through with the Masamune and hold him over a fire like a chocobo-colored marshmallow.

_Better go prepared with a REALLY big diamond._

Cloud almost laughed himself silly at the thought, and dimly he was aware at how hysterical he was becoming. He was losing his already tenuous grip on his sanity, and trying to keep himself behaving like a fifteen year old wimp had taxed his control to its limits. Not to mention the fact that he had more secrets than Hojo's lab had freaks. It was all becoming too much, and Cloud longed for someone to talk to, someone whom he could confide in, someone who would just bloody  _tell_  him that it would be OK.

 _Pathetic_.

He was stronger than this. He wasn't some stupid teenaged girl all broken up over some dumb jock who'd played her. He was Cloud Strife, and if he could save the world twice then he could damn well deal with the effects of time-travel. He was just tired, that was all. Tired and exhausted and hungry – he hadn't been able to eat more than half a plate of Shinra food at a time, because no matter how absolutely starving he was the mere sight of cadet chow was enough to make him ill.

 _Quit being so goddamned picky_.

Starting tonight, he would force himself to finish everything that was on his plate. He needed to bulk up - and even though he had no idea what was in the Unidentified Food-ish Objects, he knew that Shinra would want to churn out SOLDIERS and would therefore ensure that all meals held  _some_  semblance of nutrition.

The cadets were walking down a hallway, heading for Theory of Materia class. It would bore Cloud to tears, he knew, but he really needed to know exactly what they taught cadets so he wouldn't accidentally reveal the depth of his knowledge and experience. As they were trudging down the cold passage, he was drawn out of his reverie by the whispers and nudges going on around him.

_Oh, grow up._

He would have sneered if he wasn't such an emotionally-constipated man. A part of him was calling himself a snob, because  _really_ , when  _he'd_  been fifteen he'd been much more childish than the others. Another part of him was quite smugly satisfied with being an adult now, thank you very much.

" _The General!"_

That low, urgent, reverent whisper was enough to make Cloud start, and he lifted his head, catching sight of the General approaching them from another hallway on the left. Cloud's heart decided to become a chocobo on a trampoline right then – and he could've sworn he was about to puke the damned organ out.

Sephiroth was as magnificent as ever.

The General was dressed in a business suit – which was downright strange to Cloud, because he couldn't remember ever seeing the man in anything other than his trademark leather get-up – but he looked  _good_. Cloud used to think that only Rufus and the Turks could pull off suits that well (even Reno had looked fashionable despite his state of disarray), but Sephiroth made them look like unrefined hillbillies.

The man had  _style_. And he was hot and he knew it.

Dimly Cloud was aware that his hands were shaking, and if he hadn't been wearing those God-awful Shinra-issued fatigues his knees would probably have been knocking out the Morse Code for S-E-X.

Sephiroth was wearing a tailored black suit and a crisp white dress-shirt, with a black tie and silver cufflinks that glinted in the ugly fluorescent lighting. His hair was tucked behind his ears, though an errant strand was flitting about his face as he bent his head slightly to speak to the three other SOLDIERS around him. They were dressed in their uniforms, and the contrast only served to further highlight the General's  _je ne sais quoi_. He was a wet-dream walking down a Shinra catwalk, surrounded by burly bodyguards. He was everything Cloud had ever wanted and could never have.

He forced himself to turn away, and caught sight of Hojo approaching from the other direction. The expression on the scientist's face was one that Cloud had come to recognize, and instantly the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and the heat that had rushed to his face upon seeing the General instantly disappeared, only to be replaced by a cold hatred and a knot of fear in his stomach. Cloud knew that look, had seen it directed at himself enough times to know that it meant that somebody was gonna get hurt real bad, and it would be in the name of Science.

The panic was rising, because he honestly hadn't been prepared for running into Sephiroth and Hojo anytime soon, let alone at the  _same_   _bloody time_. He didn't think he could move, breathing was becoming something his body had decided it could do without. He supposed he should consider himself lucky that most of the other cadets had also stopped to gawk at their idol. No one else had noticed Hojo, and no one else had noticed Cloud's terror.

He turned to look back at the General. The silver-haired man hadn't noticed Hojo yet, or was intent on ignoring the scientist. But Cloud knew that determined expression of Hojo's, and he knew what Hojo wanted, even though some irrational part of his mind was screaming that Hojo was after  _him_ , that Hojo wanted to turn  _him_  into a Sephiroth clone right then and there.

Hojo didn't know Cloud existed yet. And Cloud wasn't about to let him. It was good to be short.

However, Cloud also didn't want Hojo anywhere near Sephiroth. So he did the only thing he could think of – he tripped.

As fate would have it, the cadets had been passing through an intersection that was having some maintenance work done. There were several ladders and toolboxes strewn about, and some new light-fixtures were propped against the walls, waiting to be installed by the repairmen who were lounging around taking a short break. When Cloud tripped, he knocked against Brian Tranton, who had been too busy gaping at the General to pay attention to where he was going anyway. The brown-haired boy then promptly knocked into another cadet who was standing rooted next to one of the maintenance ladders, and the cheap piece of metallic footing fell to the ground with a loud  _clang_. It also happened to knock over the ladder closest to it, and thus began a delightful domino effect.

By the time the cacophony had ended, Hojo's way was completely barred, and Cloud couldn't resist the triumphant little smirk that made its way to his lips. He quickly schooled his expression into one of polite interest when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the General looking at him.

_He knows._

In his haste to preserve the object of his affections from Hojo's violations, Cloud had forgotten just how very observant Sephiroth was. The silver-haired man would have noticed that Cloud had tripped on purpose, would have seen the hastily smothered smirk. And the General was smart enough to put two and two together.

Sephiroth knew that Cloud had stopped Hojo on purpose.

Cloud wanted to throw up. As it was, the uproar created by the maintenance crew and the cadets gave him just the excuse he needed, and he slipped away quickly to run to the nearest bathroom and kneel to the commode gods.

_Fuck._

This was going to come back and bite him – like a Karmic Boomerang come to enact the Three-Fold Law by shoving itself up his arse.

_Fuck me._

What would Cloud do if Hojo came after him? What would Cloud do if the General wanted to know why he'd stopped the scientist and taken such pleasure in it? What would Cloud do if Sephiroth asked why he cared?

 _Fuck me SIDEWAYS_.

This was not good.

##

Reno had his reasons for not approaching Cloud yet. He needed to do his homework on the blond, figure out what the change was, what had caused it, and how best to handle the situation. The red-head wasn't the kind of idiot to charge in blindly - he liked knowing his escape routes before entering any sort of fray. And he knew without a doubt that dealing with Strife was going to be more of a battle than anything.  _How_  he knew that, he had no idea. He just did.

He looked up from where the cadets were trying to help the maintenance crew pick up their fallen tools. The General had disappeared long ago with nothing but an indifferent look in their direction, and the SOLDIERS with him had snickered slightly at the bumbling cadets, but that was all. The scientist, on the other hand,  _Hojo_  or something or other, had had a few choice words for the boys. Reno had taken one good look at the man and decided he didn't like him. Instincts honed from years of living on the streets had practically screamed at him to run and never look back.

Reno would have to figure out what the deal was with the freak in the lab coat.

He frowned slightly when he realized that Blondie was missing. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the blond since the ladders and toolboxes fell. He wondered where he'd gone, then wondered why the kid had hightailed it out of there so quickly. Perhaps Spiky was avoiding the General? Or maybe the scientist? Whichever the reason, Reno wanted to know  _why_. Every cadet, Reno included, longed for whatever glimpses of the General that they could get. The silver-haired man rarely deigned to grace the wannabes with his presence, and Reno had heard that only SOLDIER Seconds got to see him more than the few times a year when ceremonies required his presence.

The General was a  _snob_.

Somehow that explanation didn't fit the man though. Reno was smart enough to see beyond the obvious, experienced enough with people to be able to understand their motivations – and what he knew of the man didn't seem to tie-in with such arrogance. Sure, the General was a proud man – he had every right to be. He was the best, the greatest, and he knew it. But Reno had never heard anyone speak ill of him – and he doubted that it had anything to do with fear of retribution. No, from what Reno had gathered, it seemed all the SOLDIERS revered him, and treated him with a kind of affectionate solidarity. So the only other explanation for the General's behavior towards anyone below Second Class was that he just didn't have the time to get to know everyone. Which seemed fair, given that he was General of not just SOLDIER but the regulation army, and there were too many members to get to know personally.

Reno wondered when he'd decided to make excuses for someone he didn't even know.

He turned his attention back to the latest conundrum – Cloud Strife. He'd stepped in for the blond during the Matt-fiasco almost instinctively – somehow the way Jeffries had been screeching at the indifferent kid had rubbed him the wrong way. And Reno knew all too well that the surfer and his buddies enjoyed picking on Cloud, because he was a wimp who didn't tattle. So if the shorty decided that he wasn't going to take their crap anymore, then Reno had no choice but to respect him.

He wondered where Cloud had picked up such a technique though. Perhaps he'd developed it himself? That seemed a likely explanation – Reno had never seen anyone move like that, and it seemed that the method was designed to take down bigger opponents. Which meant that all this while the blond had had the ability to beat any bully to a pulp with ease – so why hadn't he? Why had he endured their taunts and hazing? Prior to the Matt incident, Strife had always clenched his fists and looked furious with his tormentors, and everyone had assumed that he hadn't lashed out because he was simply too weak to. But after this serious display of skill, everyone, Reno included, had revised their opinions of the blond. The reason Spiky hadn't fought back before was because he hadn't wanted to hurt anyone.

It seemed that displaying his hidden abilities had brought out a different side to Cloud. No longer did he look upset with jeers or insults – it was just water rolling off a duck's back. He didn't even bother to acknowledge the other brats who needed to group together in order to feel brave enough to annoy him. No, this new Cloud was the kind of guy who didn't bother with childish pranks – he simply ignored them, knowing full well that he could take on anyone who came at him.

_Not ANYONE._

Reno was taller than the blond, and he had muscles that he'd painstakingly developed in the slums. Plus, he fought dirty, fast, and furious – Slum Style. He doubted that Cloud could take him as easily as he had Matt. A week ago Reno would have said that he could wipe the floor with Spiky easy – now he knew he'd have to work to drop the kid. Still didn't mean he couldn't though.

_I'm flyer than he is._

Still, Reno knew better than to antagonize someone so obviously deadly. He'd made up his mind that he would get to know the kid, try to find out what had brought on this sudden change. Now if only he could figure out where the blond was and corner him before Materia Theory class.

He was disappointed though. The group of cadets reached their class only to find Strife already there and seated in a corner at the back. Reno resolved to speak to the blond after class, or during dinner.

He spent the entire hour trying not to fall asleep. He didn't need this class to know the theory behind how Materia worked, had heard enough stories in the slums to figure it out for himself. Yawning, he glanced at Strife. The kid hardly seemed to be paying attention either, lost in his own thoughts and looking paler than usual. Reno wondered what was wrong, then figured it was just the after-effects of seeing The Great General.

_Another fan. Surprise, surprise._

Somehow Reno had been expecting this new Strife to be different from the other cadets – not as easily taken in by the Glamour Of Sephiroth. He supposed that was stupid though – Spiky had been The Man's Number One Fan since Day One of cadet training. If he had a poster of the General it'd probably be pinned up over his bunk and covered in bodily fluids.

Reno had to admit the General was imposing, a sight to behold. He wasn't usually easily awed or impressed, but the man had a way about him, or maybe it was the ridiculous good looks and perfect build that just  _screamed_ sublimity. Either way, Reno found himself wanting to see the silver-haired man again. He scowled instantly. Surely he had more self-respect than to stoop to the level of a rabid fan?

_Be a Man._

He pushed all thoughts of the General aside, and decided to simply focus on Strife. It would be a welcome diversion – cadet training was ridiculously boring, and the only reason Reno had joined was because he'd seen the Turks wandering around the slums before and had been impressed by their suits and shades. He knew that the only way to become an operative was by becoming a cadet; and  _that_  had been the only reason why he'd hauled himself over to the Recruitment Drive.

Reno knew he'd make the suit look good.

He glanced at Cloud again, and nearly fell off his chair in shock when a sudden thought seized him.

_Damn, he's pretty._

Horrified, Reno glanced back down at his textbook, though he couldn't for the life of him make out any of the words smirking at him from the cheap pages. What the hell was  _wrong_ with him? Strife was just a  _kid_. Well, technically they were about the same age, but Reno had somehow always felt older than everyone else in cadet training – simply because he'd had to grow up fast under the plate. Strife had always struck him as younger than everyone else, and it wasn't just because he was practically the smallest of the lot – the kid had had such innocence in his eyes that Reno had always thought him to be twelve at the most. Now though, he had a man's eyes – the kind of look that Reno had only seen on those who'd grown up tough. Suddenly Cloud seemed to be about the same age that Reno felt.

That still didn't make it OK to be checking him out.

_I need to get laid._

Reno sighed inaudibly, grateful for the fact that their droning instructor had managed to put everyone to sleep without actually using Sleep Materia. It wouldn't do for anyone to notice his consternation. Reno was one of the cool kids, had become Mr Popular the instant he'd entered training – true, some of the others had tried to give him grief over being a street-rat, but that was before they realized exactly  _why_  Reno had survived this long on his own. After that, there had been nothing but respect for him, although the red-head had viewed his 'friends' with barely concealed disdain. They honestly thought this was a popularity contest? These stupid boys who had homes and families and toys growing up – they knew  _nothing_  of the world, they knew nothing of what lay ahead on this path. Reno had no illusions of grandeur, no expectations of heroism or honor. He wanted to be a Turk, and he was more than happy to do his share of dirty work. It was what he was used to anyway. Every man for himself, and may the best man win.

Reno wondered how long it'd been since he'd met someone whom he could deem an equal – at least mentally. Now it seemed that Cloud's jump in maturity was making Reno realize just how very effeminate and attractive the blond was – he was striking in his own way, different from the General's arresting features but remarkable nonetheless. And even though Reno considered himself a man, he had a boy's body and his hormones were kicking into overdrive after prolonged abstinence. The red-head had had his fair share of offers since coming to Shinra - well  _duh_ , he was hot  _and_  fly – but he hadn't taken them all up, had stuck with more discerning partners who were mature enough to keep it on the down low.

Somehow Reno knew that Cloud would be the type to understand that such things were just acts of need and not want.

_Forget it!_

He willed himself to stop thinking about Cloud that way, and glanced back at the blond only to find a pair of baby blues locked on his. He really couldn't help noticing how goddamned  _pretty_  the other boy was.

_Goddammit!_

Cloud was looking at him almost coldly, as though he was trying to figure out what Reno's interest in him was and disliking said interest regardless of Reno's motivations. The red-head just smirked at him.

 _This is why I'm hot_.

He was surprised when Cloud's perusal didn't even waver, and the blond simply raised an eyebrow at him. It was almost…arrogant, this behavior of Strife's, and Reno really cursed himself for finding it so bloody  _hot_. He liked spunk, he liked his partners tough, and it was obvious that this new Cloud had balls.

 _And balls are a very good thing to have_ , his traitorous mind supplied helpfully.

Reno broke the stare, not trusting his eyes not to give away his bluer thoughts. Cloud would have definitely picked up on it, and the red-head wasn't about to give anyone any leverage over him. He tried to think about something else to calm his suddenly raging libido. He was in the middle of  _class_  for God's sake.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini._

That worked like a charm.

Reno was going to have to be very careful around the blond. It seemed the kid knew he was pretty, and knew how to use his looks to his advantage.

_Pretty fly for a white boy._

##

Sephiroth had been only moderately successful at forgetting about the blond cadet. He'd made it back to his office without thinking about the boy, but as soon as he was seated behind his desk the memory of the hastily smothered smirk made him itch to pick up the phone and order the cadet into his office for questioning.

He didn't, though. He was the General, and he had learned to control himself from an early age. So he simply turned on his computer and looked at Cadet Strife's personnel file. And frowned. The boy hadn't had his Mako testing yet – this group of cadets was still a ways off. So why the dislike for Hojo? Why had he deliberately stopped the scientist in the hallway? Sure, he'd made it look like he'd tripped accidentally, but Sephiroth was no idiot. The blond had done it on purpose, had  _wanted_  to foil Hojo.

The General looked over the file again. There was nothing to indicate that Strife and Hojo had had any contact – but then again Sephiroth didn't expect Hojo to care about noting down such things. If the scientist got it into his head to perform his 'tests' on cadets, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him or get him to file the relevant paperwork.

Was that it, then? Had Hojo already met the cadet, perhaps injected him with something? That WOULD explain the arm-snapping routine – the cadet's performance reports had hitherto evinced no claim to skill or strength. The boy hadn't had a Mako glow though, so if Hojo really was doing something to him it was something even Sephiroth didn't know about.

He didn't like it.

But there was nothing much he could do about it – if he spoke to the cadet it would raise more than a few eyebrows, and it would definitely put the blond on Hojo's radar, if he wasn't already. Sephiroth was not deaf – he knew that there were plenty of rumors going around about him and his 'leisure activities' – there were many who even believed that  _Zack_  was the one warming the General's bed most nights. And if he suddenly displayed an interest in a cadet, it would most definitely be misconstrued, and Sephiroth really didn't need more paperwork.

But he really wanted answers.

So he did the only thing he could think of: he called Zack into his office and sicced the SOLDIER on the kid. Zack had been only too happy to oblige – and that had made Sephiroth suspicious, until the dark-haired man had explained.

He hadn't made much sense, but then again such was Zack's way of talking when he was excited. Still, Sephiroth had plenty of experience sorting through Zack's muddled exaggerations, and he finally distilled that this cadet was displaying a maturity and skill far beyond his years. It was definitely odd – the boy was barely sixteen, and from a backwater mountain town. Zack's theory of bullying seemed plausible, but then there was the question of  _why_  Strife had hidden his talents in the first place?

Sephiroth didn't have to be a CSI addict to know that to solve a puzzle one needed to gather evidence. And he  _was_  the General for a reason – Zack schlepped, he oversaw. So he kicked Zack out of his office and ordered him to gather information – that is, Sephiroth simply raised an eyebrow at Zack, gave him a disinterested look that he knew Zack wasn't buying, and turned back to his work.

Zack took the bait – hook, line, and sinker. The man really was too easy.

_Boom._

##

Cloud was sitting in his usual spot and trying to make do on his earlier resolution to finish his food. It was harder than any battle he'd ever fought – Shinra chow was  _disgusting_ , even by Cloud's standards. And he wasn't exactly the pickiest or most pampered of eaters.

A clatter startled him, and he looked up, only to see Reno's lanky form settling into the seat across from him.  _This_  surprised him, but in a way he was glad that it was the red-head who was initiating the contact. Cloud hadn't been sure how to approach the future Turk – Reno was far too confusing and sneaky for a direct approach, but Cloud hadn't been able to think of any other way of talking to him. This was a good start.

The red-head didn't say anything for awhile, but Cloud wasn't fooled. He could tell that Reno was playing a waiting game – to see if Cloud would break and make the first move. The blond was glad to disappoint.

Eventually, Reno stopped stuffing his face long enough to look up at Cloud, and the blond steeled himself for the inevitable headache.

"What's up?"

Cloud wanted to smack him. Trust Reno to put so much weight and nuance behind two simple words. There was any number of ways for his response to be taken, and Cloud had to think hard and fast for an answer. Too long and Reno would definitely get suspicious, too quick and the red-head would know he was hiding something.

So Cloud just shrugged. He was pleased to see the brief flash of irritation in Reno's eyes, but he hadn't been prepared for the look of satisfaction. So Reno had been hoping that he'd be elusive? What the hell was  _that_ about?

Around him he could make out the frenzied whispers and gossip that had taken over the mess hall. Reno was a popular kid, he had plenty of cool friends. Cloud was the wimpy loner whom no one spoke to except out of derision or pity. Together they made for an odd couple – but for once Cloud was glad for Reno's company. It helped to have a familiar face before him.

"I heard Matt won't be taking the exams with us," Reno's tone was measured, too even to be casual. "He'll have to wait and start training over again next intake."

Cloud didn't know how to respond to that. He felt a little bad for the del Sol boy, because he knew what it was like to have your dreams snatched brutally away from you. But on the other hand, the surfer had deserved it.

So he just shrugged again. "He had it coming," he said, noncommittally. The last thing he wanted was for Reno to think that he was out for revenge. Though it  _had_  been sweet.

_Oh, grow up._

What was he, fifteen? Sure he was  _physically_ , but mentally and emotionally he should be past such pettiness. He'd have thought that with all his experiences he would've been more mature than to feel such smug satisfaction, but a part of him had never forgotten the pain and shame he'd been subjected to as a cadet.

He  _was_  only human after all.

Reno just nodded, looking at Cloud with sharp, intelligent eyes before turning back to his food. Cloud was content to mimic him, and he found that with Reno there as a distraction, he was actually managing to clean his plate.

_Something else Turks are good for._

As it was, Cloud hadn't been expecting Reno's next question.

"Whatcha doin' this weekend?"

Cloud glanced up sharply, suspicion no doubt etched all over his childish face. Even in the future, after all they'd gone through, he and Reno had never really hung out together. Sure, there was the odd drink now and then when they'd both been in Seventh Heaven at the same time, but that was the extent of their socializing outside of saving the world.

And now Reno wanted to know what Cloud was doing during the weekend?  _Why_?

He took awhile to answer, but Reno's face gave nothing away.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"Dunno," Cloud replied at last. "Probably just studying. Might head down under the plate for a walk."

Reno nodded. "Sounds good. I've been meaning to go to Wall Market. Care to join?"

"Sure."

Cloud frowned internally. He hadn't had to think about the response, had just accepted the invitation readily, as though Reno was a friend and not someone he should be wary of.

He supposed he didn't really have to be afraid of the red-head. After all, he knew how he thought, knew his motivations and his future. But instincts were instincts, and habit had made him a deeply cautious man. Still, it wouldn't hurt to head to the slums with Reno. He was a local after all, and maybe, just maybe, they might even get along.

Then Cloud would actually have someone to talk to.

_Yippee-ka-yay._

He wondered what that would feel like. He'd never really had a friend – Zack had been snatched away from him too quickly, and even then they'd been companions more out of necessity and circumstance than anything. Cloud was smart enough to know that Reno had his own motivations for getting to know him, and he knew it was most likely because of his sudden change in behavior. But he didn't see the harm in hanging out with the red-head – as long as he didn't do anything stupid to reveal his secrets, everything would be fine.

He would have to be on guard though. Reno was a sneaky bastard, and Cloud could be ridiculously blond sometimes.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, Reno actually waiting for Cloud to put his utensils down before getting up to dump his tray. Cloud followed suit, and they left the mess hall together, the red-head giving his usual posse a wave before heading out behind the blond.

Cloud wondered if he should say something. The silence was a little nerve-wracking, and it was only years of control that stopped him from showing any signs of discomfort. He was rather proud of himself.

"So, Cloud," Reno started, stretching and lacing his hands behind his head, "Have you finished your homework?"

_I knew it._

If Reno wanted to borrow his notes, that was fine with Cloud. He was glad he hadn't doodled anything discriminating despite his boredom. And this was a safe topic, a shared subject that at once lent the air a sense of neutrality and ease.

"Yeah. You're welcome to borrow it if you like." Cloud nearly grinned when Reno's face lit up.

_Some things never change._

"Thanks, man. Geography is boring as. Why the hell do we need to know about topography or whatever anyway?" Reno's posture had slackened, and Cloud could tell it wasn't a ploy to put him at ease.

He answered easily enough. "Terrain and soil matter in battle. If you're gonna be using explosives or casting certain spells, you wanna be sure that the ground isn't gonna give way and you're not gonna start an avalanche or something." It didn't reveal too much, and if Reno asked, Cloud had read it in a book.

Reno just gave him a sideways glance that Cloud recognized as his teasing look – God knew he'd gotten that subtly amused expression enough times to become accustomed to it anyway. "Nerd."

Cloud couldn't help it this time. He rolled his eyes and gave the red-head a playful little half-smirk. "Better a nerd than a red-head."

"Oi!" Reno sputtered indignantly, and it was all Cloud could do to refrain from laughing.  _This_  Reno he knew, this he could handle. Even if it was just light banter, Cloud relished the familiarity of it all. He enjoyed teasing Reno, the red-head was always good for a comeback. "Better a red-head than a blond any day! You know how many blond jokes I could tell you?"

Actually, Cloud did. In the future, Reno had told them all to him. Some of them were actually rather funny. But mostly he'd liked how the Turk had been so totally unafraid of First Tsurugi. Cloud respected Reno as a man who was smart and tough – a very useful ally, and someone who could always be counted on to lighten a situation.

Cloud just gave him a mock glare. He was surprised to find that he was actually already starting to relax in the red-head's company, but then again Reno had always been easy to get along with. Some of the others had found the Turk annoying, but to Cloud it was just Reno being Reno – and he liked the red-head's honest charm.

It helped that Reno had the looks to back it up.

_Fuck._

There he was again, thinking about Reno  _that_  way. What the hell was wrong with him? Cloud had always only ever had eyes for one man, even when sating his desires with his usual partner it had been  _him_  that Cloud had been imagining, only  _him_  that Cloud saw whenever he felt hands on himself and a body moving over his.

He supposed it had been too long since he'd last found relief. And just because he'd only ever wanted one man didn't mean he was blind to others around him. Cloud could appreciate beauty, could enjoy the act itself even if his heart lay elsewhere. And Reno had always had a certain confident charm that was probably why he was so damned popular and good at his job.

If push came to shove and the red-head offered, Cloud might actually accept if only to have a brief respite. He knew that Reno would see it as it was anyway – just sex, nothing more.

_How very loyal you are._

Cloud scowled mentally. It didn't matter anyway.  _He_  didn't even know Cloud existed, although maybe after today he did. But no matter what Cloud did, he'd never been good enough, would never be beautiful enough or special enough to be worthy of his attention. It didn't stop him from hoping though.

But Cloud was ever a pragmatist. He knew that sexual frustration was called that for a reason – and he couldn't afford to be anything less than 100% when it came to training. He was fifteen and hormonal, so he would have to find release somehow. And it wasn't cheating if he wasn't actually  _in_  a relationship anyway. Besides, Reno seemed experienced enough that Cloud would probably have a good time.

_Goddammit._

Cloud really couldn't believe he was actually thinking about it. He could tell the red-head was looking at him weirdly now, but that ever-present smirk was still on Reno's face. Then Cloud just kicked himself mentally.

_As if anyone would actually be interested in a wimp like you._

Here Cloud had been thinking he was all that, when he'd forgotten that he was just a skinny little fifteen year old trying desperately to scrape through SOLDIER Entrance Exams. He wasn't Mr World Savior here, he was nowhere near the man he would become. What would anyone see in him anyway? Sure, Reno and he were about the same age, but Reno was popular and could have his pick of bed-mates. The only reason they were talking now was because Reno wanted information, nothing more.

"Earth to Cloud! Hello?" A hand waving in front of his face brought him out of his reverie, and he almost reached out and snapped it, refraining at the last second. As it was, they had already reached their barracks. Cloud just turned to glance at Reno.

"Sorry, was just thinking about classes," he offered lamely. He knew Reno wasn't buying it, but at least the red-head let it slide.

"You think too much, man." Again with that amused look. Then Reno stuck out his hand snottily. "Homework, please."

Cloud couldn't stop the brief chuckle that escaped him, and he could tell Reno was both surprised and pleased at the reaction. He turned and headed to his bunk, pulling out his notebook from the locker at the foot of his bed before straightening up and turning to hand it to Reno. He was surprised to see the other boy's eyes quickly flick up from where they had been focused on his behind. To Reno's credit, he didn't look in the least bit discomfited with being caught out like that, and Cloud was very proud of himself for not having the slightest flush of red on his cheeks.

He simply passed Reno the spiral bound book and settled onto his bed to read their Battle Comms textbook. The radios were easy enough to assemble, but Cloud was more interested in the information they  _weren't_ taught in class – such as how to jam frequencies, how to create their own tracking and surveillance devices, and how to decode enemy ciphers and such. He'd been spending too much time around Vincent.

At the thought of his friend, Cloud stilled. He knew that Vincent was in his coffin sleeping – and he longed to hightail it to Nibelheim to set him free. But he couldn't afford to miss out on training, and  _really_ , what would he say anyway? No, better to wait until the Nibelheim mission, if it ever came. Then at least Vincent would be there to explain things to Sephiroth and maybe keep him under control. Maybe they could even go see Lucrecia.

_One big happy family._

He would have snorted if he didn't think Reno would call him a weirdo and question him. A glance at the red-head showed him to be busy scribbling out answers based on Cloud's, so the blond just turned back to his textbook and decided to focus on his studies until lights out. The others would be back soon anyway, and they tended to make plenty of noise – how anyone ever got any studying done in the cadet barracks was beyond Cloud.

He was pleased that he was feeling tired though – it would ensure a good night's rest, and he wasn't concerned about not being able to wake up early. His body clock was too well-trained for that. His private training was wearying, and it left him aching and sore and exhausted for PT and classes, but at least he knew it would stand him in good stead when the time came.

He wondered why Zack had been watching him like that during sword training. Or maybe the dark-haired SOLDIER hadn't been watching him at all, had simply been passing by and happened to glance in on the proceedings. Yes, that must be it. Cloud couldn't remember how he'd first met Zack, or when they'd become friends. He supposed it probably had something to do with him getting into trouble and Zack getting him out of it. Maybe he should blow himself up with Materia or shoot himself in the foot during target practice – Zack would probably come running.

The corner of his lip lifted in mirth. Zack always did like running towards danger. The man was born to be SOLDIER.

Cloud really missed him.

##

Friday came around and was met with a great deal of cheer, even at zero-six-thirty. Fridays meant pancakes for breakfast (or some sort of chewy flan that vaguely resembled pancakes) and classes that ended earlier than usual. Friday meant the weekend was  _tomorrow_.

_TGIF!_

Reno always felt more cheerful on Fridays. It reminded him of drunken parties and friends and good food. So he was slightly more perky than usual as he headed to the bathroom to get ready, not surprised to find that Cloud's bunk was already empty and neatly turned down.

_Early bird, huh?_

Cloud's homework had been a welcome aid – the blond really was a nerd, but in a good way. Reno had actually understood what he was expected to do thanks to Strife's notes. So they had fallen into a sort of routine wherein Reno would copy Cloud's work at night before bed, and the blond would just read some textbook or other.  _How_  the blue-eyed cadet even managed to finish all his written work before everyone else was beyond Reno, but he supposed it had something to do with the new attitude going on.

He headed to the mess hall feeling only slightly more human. As usual, Spiky was in the corner with his back against a wall, looking like he'd already had a workout and attempting to force himself to eat more than a few mouthfuls of the gruel before him.

Reno couldn't help thinking about pushing the blond against a wall and giving him a workout while forcing him to accept something else in his mouth.

_It's too early for this._

Then again, it  _was_  called morning wood for a reason.

Scowling, Reno simply grabbed a tray and got in line. None of the other cadets noticed his foul mood, or no one cared. It was a widely accepted fact that mornings were for grunts and growls. Even after all these months in training, no one had managed to get used to the early rising – or maybe it was the annoying wake-up call that got them all riled up. Reno swore that if he ever saw a trumpet in his life he would do  _nasty_  things to it.

_That sounded wrong._

It was official: Reno needed to get laid.

He slouched over to where Cloud was sitting, and as he neared the table the blond raised his head and his expression warmed slightly at the sight of the red-head. If Reno didn't know better, he'd think that Cloud was  _laughing_  at him for looking so sleepy.

_Goddamned morning people._

Reno had never been one of those who enjoyed mornings. He was more of a night-person, preferring the darkness because that was when all manner of sin was acceptable, became a norm. And Reno really liked his vices – it was part of the reason why he wanted to be a Turk. Those guys were  _bad_.

They ate in silence, Cloud never having been much of a talker and Reno too bleary to be coherent. After five cups of mud-water coffee, Reno was starting to feel much more awake, and he could've sworn that even his hair had become redder and perkier. The cadets trudged off to the field for PT, and Reno did his best to keep pace with Cloud, who had become quite the little Road Runner recently. The red-head was fast, no doubt about it, but he had never been able to keep his speed for long – down in the slums you generally just had to be quick enough to get to the next alley, not the next sector. But if the skinny little blond could kick everyone's ass on the track and the training mats, then Reno would be damned if he was left in the dust. He'd always been competitive by nature, always enjoyed beating others because it gave his ego a helluva rush.

It made him feel like a man.

The gunny was bellowing and blustering at them, but Reno ignored him. He had taken one glance at the sergeant and nearly pissed himself laughing – he couldn't forget the mental images of Payne in a bikini that he'd had to conjure up the quite regularly to deal with this sudden and not entirely unwanted attraction towards Cloud.

_Speaking of which…_

Cloud was only slightly ahead of Reno, the red-head practically dying with the effort of trying to keep up with the blond. As it was, Reno's position afforded him a pretty good view of a sweat-drenched shirt that clung to a lithe back, and a  _very_  nice ass that moved with the tempting rhythm of Strife's lean legs. As far as distractions went, it was perfect. Out of the corner of his eye, Reno could see some of the other cadets checking Cloud out too – though far less subtly than he was. He supposed it really couldn't be helped – the blond had always been the prettiest of the lot, but had been far too immature and childish prior to this that any advance made would have been statutory rape in every sense of the word. Now though, Cloud was proving to be tough and smart and very, very mature – which made him prime fantasy material. Reno didn't doubt that more than a few of the other cadets dreamed of being able to take Cloud down and force him to bend to their will – among other things.

 _Like hell they will_.

He was surprised at the surge of anger at the thought. He had always been a possessive sort, never having had very much to call his own. But he had never expected to feel this way over someone he'd never paid much attention to. It wasn't the sort of jealousy that arose over a lover – no, Reno would die before ever viewing sex as anything more than fucking. It was more of a protective streak, the kind that friends had for each other, the kind of desire to keep a companion from unfair harm.

Reno wanted to shoot himself.

_It's just coz he's pretty._

That sounded about right. Strife really was too damned delicate-looking for his own good - with that fair skin and slender body, the kid was just  _begging_  for less-than-wholesome attention. And Reno was only too happy to oblige. He'd made up his mind after catching himself staring at the blond's perfect little mouth for the umpteenth time yesterday – tonight or this weekend, he would get Cloud drunk and get him in bed. Reno knew a place in the slums they could go to – it had been his pseudo-home for most of his life, and it was private enough with a clean bed. If not, then they could just fuck in the cadet bathrooms – though Reno would rather not. He liked making his partners scream. He wondered if Cloud was the loud type – it was usually the quiet ones who made the most noise. Whichever the case, Reno wasn't about to risk the other cadets helping themselves to dinner and a show – boys tended to act more like animals when grouped together for extended periods of time, especially when alcohol was involved.

_Softies._

Reno couldn't help the curl of derision at the memory of how weak all the other cadets were when it came to drinking. He supposed good little mummy's boys didn't actually get introduced to alcohol until much later in life, whereas  _he'd_  been drinking since he was old enough to realize that that odd smell usually preceded some very warm, fuzzy feelings.

Cloud had never really been able to hold his liquor either, Reno remembered. The blond was a sullen, angry drunk – and usually one of the first to get all flushed and glassy-eyed. It would make his plans easier – but he really didn't want to deal with an emo little brat in bed. No, Reno wanted the cool, smart Cloud looking up at him as he hooked pale legs over his shoulders. It was a rush, Reno knew – the kind that came from primal domination, and so sue him but he was only human too.

_Soon._

Reno really didn't think he could wait for much longer. It had been almost three weeks since his last tryst, and what with the way Cloud was acting and all – the blond attracted attention even when he was just standing still, and it seemed that this new Cloud knew how to work his looks. It was almost as though the kid was asking for it – although Reno could see that it was the last thing the blond wanted. Strife was the type to avoid crowds and contact – but it was probably that fierce independence and assertiveness that drew even more people to him. It was already having an effect on the dynamics of the cadets – more and more boys were starting to group around Cloud, and the blond couldn't really go anywhere without people greeting him and trying to talk to him or be his sparring partner.

Reno supposed his association with Cloud had only helped give the blond a leg-up status-wise too.

_I'm so fly I can make ANYONE look good._

At last, the gunny gave the whistle, and the cadets stumbled to a stop gratefully. Reno himself was clutching his side and attempting to breathe through the pain – what kind of  _dumbass_  had decided that cadets needed to run round and round right after eating? – but a glance at Cloud showed that the blond had simply started walking on the spot, looking tired but not very winded. It seemed the kid had stamina – and that would certainly come in handy, Reno's very dirty mind whispered.

Reno couldn't wait for the day to be over. He knew Cloud had caught him checking him out – and judging by the blond's reaction or lack thereof, the Nibelheim kid wasn't as innocent as he'd first appeared to be. Reno wondered where this sudden worldly wisdom had come from – it was yet another question to add to his ever-growing list. He wondered if getting Cloud drunk would get him his answers, but somehow he doubted it. No matter how intoxicated Cloud got, somehow Reno knew that the blond would retain enough mental awareness and control to keep his secrets. And Reno relished the challenge the blue-eyed cadet presented – it would certainly keep things from getting dull.

##

Cloud could hardly keep the thrum of anticipation from showing. He knew from the way Reno was looking at him that sooner or later he was going to get his release. God knew he'd gotten that look enough times as a man to become very adept at understanding it. A part of him was feeling guilty over this apparent betrayal – but another part of him, the more rational, adult part, insisted that it was only human, only normal. He wasn't actually  _in_  a relationship – it had always been more of a love-hate thing: Cloud loved the man, the man hated Cloud. And all this sexual tension was really not helping Cloud's concentration. So he'd resolved to just go with the flow and enjoy himself. He knew that all Reno wanted was a warm body under his anyway, so it wouldn't complicate matters at all. It would be  _safe_.

After PT the cadets had headed to target practice – Fridays were lazy days for cadets, because  _honestly_  how much energy could they expend holding up assault rifles and taking aim at mangled targets? Cloud had to remind himself to aim off-center – he'd had plenty of practice with firearms in his time, because necessity had sometimes required that he grab the nearest available weapon and strike. It was one of the reasons why SOLDIER training was so varied – if ever there came a time when they were out of bullets or lacking their usual weapon, SOLDIERS needed to be able to make do with whatever they could find.

He and Reno had been getting along quite well, to his surprise. He hadn't expected to find a sort of kindred spirit in the red-head, had always assumed rather melodramatically that he was the only one here who knew anything of suffering. Vincent had understood, true, that was one of the reasons why Cloud and he found solace in each other. But Vincent wasn't here, and Reno was. The other cadet was street-smart and had a biting sense of humor that this older Cloud could appreciate – it was probably why Tifa usually groaned whenever Cloud and Reno happened to be in Seventh Heaven at the same time.

He missed Tifa. She was the warmth that he had come to take for granted in his life – the last sweet haven he could turn to when things got bad. Cloud liked Seventh Heaven, even if he had never told Tifa that. It reminded him of home and his mother, sans the alcohol. Tifa's presence was obviously the contributing factor – she was always so strong, so understanding, so loving, that it made Cloud long to be a better man, a different man, so that he could give her everything she wanted. But he couldn't change who he truly was, and despite the heavy Zack influence and everything he'd been through he knew enough to know that his true nature was such that he could never fall in love with Tifa. His heart was elsewhere, and he was pretty sure everyone knew it.

He wondered if Aeris had anything to do with the gentle acceptance that his friends had for his feelings.

Target practice meandered along for three hours, and by the time the cadets trooped back to the mess hall for a "fish- 'n'- chip" lunch, the sun was high in the sky and Cloud really hoped he'd get some sort of tan. This too-pale skin never failed to rattle his nerves whenever he looked at himself. In the future, what with all his travels, he'd had more of a pinkish-golden hue to his skin, and that had suited him just fine. There was only one person in the world who suited pale, pristine skin, and that wasn't Cloud.

_He looked GOOD._

Cloud hadn't seen Sephiroth since that chance almost-encounter in the hallways, and a part of him was relieved. It wouldn't do to meet the General just yet – not when everything was still pretty raw for Cloud. He had adjusted to the time-travel business somewhat, and sometimes he wondered what had happened to the fifteen year old Cloud who'd gotten kicked out to make room for the old man who'd come tumbling in. He didn't know if he should ask Aeris about it – he'd probably just get a headache and an answer he didn't like.

Zack had been skulking around a lot though – and Cloud had come to realize that the First really WAS watching him. And several other cadets, Reno included. It seemed the man was up to something, clearly  _wanted_ something, and Cloud was at a loss as to what. His fifteen year old self hadn't really paid much attention to the subtleties that went on around him, so Cloud had no memories to draw on. More than once Cloud had looked up in the middle of a class or a lecture only to meet assessing blue eyes. It was downright unnerving and annoying, because Cloud just really wanted to  _talk_  to his almost-friend, and Zack was making things difficult with this different side of him.

 _Zack is Zack_.

It wasn't that this was a different side to Zack, Cloud knew. It was just that he hadn't noticed before, had been too wrapped up in his own petty problems to pay attention to the SOLDIER. This time, though, Cloud was making sure to be extra observant, and he was surprised at how many things he'd missed out on the first time round. Such as the fact that Jeffries apparently  _liked_  him. They'd had hand-to-hand training again on Wednesday, and the Staff Sergeant had had an almost  _fond_  look in his eyes when Cloud had met his gaze. He'd puzzled over it for awhile, before coming to the conclusion that the sergeant was simply proud of his pupil. The explanation didn't sit quite right, but there was no way Cloud could find out the truth short of marching up to the man and straight-out  _asking_  him. Cloud was far too quiet a person to do  _that_.

He and Reno had been joined at lunch by Brian and some of the other boys, and inwardly Cloud was more than a little amused by his sudden popularity. He was practically a rock-star among the cadets, and a more whiny side of him complained at the never-ending attention directed his way. His other, more quiet side quite calmly accepted this turn of events – and was actually a little happy. Cloud had never really been part of a group before AVALANCHE, and that had been a moderately dysfunctional posse at best. This time though, Cloud was surrounded by compatriots, and he was honestly quite pleased with himself for becoming someone worth knowing. In the future, he had never really appreciated the attention bestowed on him because he'd felt unworthy, undeserving. But now, he'd earned it somewhat – by being mature (alright, so that was mostly Aeris' doing), and tougher. Never mind that it was because it was an older Cloud in a young body – at the end of the day, he was Cloud and he had  _friends_.

After lunch was the obstacle course – and Cloud honestly found it fun. It was a little exhilarating, crawling through mud and under barbed wires, scaling over slippery walls and scraping his knees a little. It reminded Cloud of the joys of being a boy, being  _young_ , and even though he had dirt and sand in places that shouldn't even  _be_  able to accumulate foreign matter, he was enjoying himself thoroughly and it showed. He was grinning somewhat, as close to a grin as he'd ever allowed himself, and it had apparently infected Reno and the others. There was more rowdy banter than Cloud ever remembered there being in training, and Cloud was glad that he had been able to brighten things up for others.

They'd had a quick one hour rappelling class, and Cloud made sure to pay attention because falling out of a chopper or an air-ship was downright  _painful_. Cid had kicked him off the Highwind once, "for shits and giggles," the scoundrel had said, and it was only Cloud's cat-like reflexes that had enabled him to catch himself in mid-air and flip over to land on his feet. The impact had jarred though, and his teeth had hurt for a day after that. He'd made sure to steal all of Cid's cigarettes and booze and flush them down the toilet the minute he'd gotten back on the ship.

There was a mad scramble for the showers after that, and Cloud was suddenly grateful for his fan-base – they practically rolled out the red carpet for him, and as a result Cloud was one of the first to jump into a stall and get clean. They had some time before dinner, and some of the cadets headed out to prepare for the night. Cloud had never been in the Supply Crew, had always been an after-thought in the drinking parties that took place in the barracks, but this time a few of his bunk-mates actually asked him what he'd prefer they get. Cadets got a pitiful monthly wage, less than what the toilet-cleaners made in a week, but when they pooled their resources it was enough to get them plenty of liquor – if they went to the right shops. Somehow every cadet knew where to go – it was practically ESP among the boys. That, and among the trainees were some kids whose parents either owned liquor stores or who had older siblings that sent them beer and whisky in care-packages.

Cloud's mother had never once allowed her son to go near a drop of alcohol – and in his older days Cloud had wondered if it was because she saw liquor as the reason for his birth. The colder, more cynical side of him thought that she shielded him from intoxication in order to prevent him from ever having bastards – the gentler side of Cloud knew that she was just being an over-protective mother.

He thought about getting some studying done, but decided that he was already far ahead of the others anyway, so there was really no need to actually  _work_  hard book-wise, he'd just refresh his memory closer to the exams. He wondered what he'd do to pass the time, until Reno pulled out a deck of cards and dragged him into a poker game. Cloud had spent enough time in Gold Saucer's VIP rooms to become a very adept poker player – he was loathe to call himself a gambler – and he knew that it was more a game of statistics and people than anything. Vincent had explained that, in poker, you played the people around you, not the hand you were dealt. It had taken Cloud awhile to understand, and Vincent had almost bankrupted Cloud and Cid and Barret and Reeve before Cloud got the message.

_You can take the man out of the Turks, but you'll never take the Turk out of the man._

Apparently playing poker was part of Turk training. Go figure.

They played for peanuts at first, until Reno suggested that the winner got first dibs at the bottle of sake that one of the other boys had been sent by a sister.  _That_  had heated things up considerably. Cloud wasn't surprised at Reno's skill – the red-head was  _born_  to be a Turk – but he could tell that he was surprising everyone with his ability. Keeping a poker-face was easy for him, too easy, but it was more his competency at reading and playing others that shocked the rest of the cadets.

_Not bad for a Nibel-brat._

He'd never really considered his poker-playing skills valuable or even remotely important – but now he was starting to realize that not everything had to be perfected for the sake of world peace. Sometimes it was just good to kick back and relax and  _have fun_.

He wondered what Sephiroth did to unwind, then decided he really didn't want to think about it when an image of the General - tie pulled slightly to hang loosely-knotted below aristocratic collarbones, sleeves rolled up slightly along toned arms, shirt un-tucked and partly unbuttoned to reveal a perfectly toned chest as the silver-haired man leaned indolently back in a leather chair – assaulted him and made him show a tell. The others jumped all over it, but Reno, being the sneaky bastard that he was, simply raised an eyebrow at Cloud and gave him a knowing smirk that for some reason made something tighten in Cloud's belly.

_Pretty sure that was a lot lower than your belly, Blondie._

Where the hell was the alcohol?

At length the dinner bell sounded, and they put the cards aside to head to the mess hall – Reno and Cloud were pretty much the only ones still in the game anyway. The others were flat out. Dinner was actually recognizable – Fridays meant pizza-ish dinners, and even though the crust was too thick and chewy, the pepperoni was remarkably like proper pepperoni, and Cloud found that  _this_  meal was easy enough to finish. He and Reno snagged some chips from the vending machines on the way back to the bunks - Cloud knew he'd need some excuse to stop filling himself with alcohol - and they started their game again in earnest.

Reno won. Cloud blamed his loss on the fact that the red-head was rather distracting, and the fact that he couldn't seem to stop imagining that it was a certain silver-haired man smirking at him like that.

The minute the red-head took his winning drink of sake, the chaos started in earnest. Beer cans were hastily opened with more cracks and fizzes than a Mako-dump, and Cloud himself got caught up in a skulling contest.

Reno was enjoying himself a little too much, in Cloud's opinion.

He attempted to pace himself, but the red-head seemed dead-set on getting Cloud intoxicated, and the future Turk had apparently recruited several other cadets to his cause. Drink after drink was shoved into Cloud's hands, and before he knew it he was being suckered into a game of strip-poker.

Cloud was  _definitely_  drunk.

He quite liked the feeling though. It had been a long time coming – and it was pleasant in its own way. He felt like he was floating, like a fuzzy woolen blanket had been pulled over his mind, and dimly he was aware that he couldn't hear very clearly. The ever-watchful part of his mind instantly kicked into overdrive, and the sudden rush of adrenaline stomped out any traces of intoxication in an instant, much to Cloud's disappointment. He had been  _enjoying_  himself.

He glanced at Reno, and wasn't really surprised to find the red-head watching him closely. Reno looked a little taken aback – though whether it was because Cloud had managed to sober up so quickly or because Cloud had yet to shed a single article of clothing in the game, Cloud wasn't sure. But at the same time, Cloud recognized that look on Reno's face – he was  _pleased_.

Was it because Reno had been expecting this new Cloud to be able to handle his liquor? Or was it because – and Cloud thought that this was rather wishful thinking - he hadn't wanted any of the other cadets to see Cloud strip?

That knowing look was back though, and Cloud allowed himself to meet it head-on. The alcohol in his system was making him bolder than he usually was, and for once Cloud didn't care. He wasn't in the mood for subtleties. He wanted relief, and Reno was going to give it to him.

_Impatient, much? Get a grip before you do something stupid. Be a MAN, dammit._

Cloud turned back to the game. Already Brian and several other cadets were missing their shirts and socks – but some of them had taken the precaution of wearing  _five_  pairs of socks – cheeky bastards – and it was only Reno, Cloud, and a kid from Corel who were still fully clothed.

 _Not for long_.

His mind was only trying to be helpful, Cloud assumed. But it was making things  _hard_ , in every sense of the word.

Cloud decided to just enjoy himself. He was rather liking the feeling of being drunk, even though he knew that he'd have to control himself in case he blurted out something stupid or revealing. Thankfully, the others were well on their way to getting pissed, so they didn't really notice that Cloud had started sipping at his drinks slowly, sometimes not even swallowing.

Reno could drink anyone under the table.

Cid had asked Vincent about his surprising liquor tolerance before. The blunt pilot had never been out-drunk by anyone before meeting Cloud and Vincent. Everyone chalked up Cloud's ability to the Mako, and even though Vincent was part-Chaos, he at least didn't have an uncanny glow in his eyes. Vincent had said that Turks needed to be good with alcohol – that they all built up a tolerance for drugs and liquor while still in training. It wouldn't do if they were somehow high or intoxicated, because a Turk was always on guard. It made sense – however bizarre the reason. Did Turks  _seriously_  sit around drowning themselves in alcohol in the name of Training?

Well, if they played poker as part of their preparation, it wasn't much of a jump.

Cloud had to admit, Turk training sounded a damn sight cooler and more fun than SOLDIER's. But perhaps that was why the Turks, no matter how skilled, could never actually take on SOLDIER Firsts like Zack. Sephiroth no one could beat – no one but the future Cloud.

 _Goddammit_.

He just  _had_  to go and think depressing thoughts again, didn't he? Well, there was only one thing to do about it – Cloud skulled his beer and grabbed another.

_Cheers, suckers._

##

It was almost midnight, and already most of the bunk was out cold. Several had puked long and loud in the barracks – but not on the floor, thank God – the cadets had fashioned little 'puke-bins' prior to the start of the drinking, and the makeshift vomit-brigade was doing a pretty good job of ensuring that the smells and sights of excessive indulgence were secured away from everyone else.

Reno himself was slightly tipsy – he'd drunk more than everyone else. Cloud had sobered up a little at first – which had surprised Reno a little – but then he'd gotten a wild, depressed look in his eyes and decided to drown himself in alcohol. The blond was still no where near the puking or passing out stage though – and Reno was glad. It would certainly make things easier if Cloud was lucid.

_It's time._

He and Cloud had been exchanging rather heated looks the entire night – and one or two of the others had caught on. Considering everyone else had been practically  _blind_ , Reno hadn't felt the need to be discreet. Besides, the few who figured it out were the type to understand anyway – Reno had fucked them before, and usually he'd be in the showers with them now enjoying himself, if it wasn't for the fact that Cloud was too damned good-looking to resist.

Jared gave Reno a knowing look, and said something to Ralph about going for a walk – yeah, right – and then the two of them just smirked at Reno and Cloud before leaving the bunks. Ray had elected to finish a bottle of whisky on his own – and pretty much waved Reno and Cloud on from his bunk in the middle of the snoring, sotted cadets.

Which left the red-head trying to figure out how best to get Cloud to head to the bathrooms.

He didn't need to, in the end, and he was rather surprised at how sharp and discreet Cloud was, even this obviously intoxicated. The blond simply glanced at him, polished off the rest of his drink, and said that he was going to wash up.

_Damn. He knows he's bad._

If Reno didn't know that Cloud was rather drunk, he'd have thought that the slight sway of the blond's hips was meant to tempt him. It was still a delicious sight though, and Reno lounged on his bed for a while longer, just to give the illusion that what was going to happen next wasn't actually going to happen.

At length, he gulped down the rest of his whisky and headed out, getting a quick "Have fun" from Ray. He smirked at the brunette, and if it wasn't for the fact that this was going to be his first time with Cloud, he might have even invited the other cadet to join them. It was the perfect setting for a porn video.

_Cadets Gone Wild._

He would have laughed had anticipation not seized him. God knew he'd been waiting for this for a  _long_  time – several days of frustration was  _ghastly_  long – and it was  _Cloud_. Possibly the best looking cadet around – Reno excluded, of course.

He reached the bathrooms, and saw that Cloud was leaning over the sink washing his face. The sight of the blond's moist neck, with droplets of water making their way down his nape and into the back of his shirt, was almost enough to make Reno groan. As it was, he simply closed the distance between them and positioned himself behind Cloud, hands framing the blond's hips roughly as he leaned in and gave the side of Cloud's neck a lick.

Cloud didn't jump, didn't seem startled or uneasy or nervous or any of the things Reno had half-expected him to be. Instead, he turned around and reached up – both hands fisting in Reno's hair and pulling him down to meet in a brutal kiss that was more tongue and teeth and alcohol-stained breath than anything else.

_Good._

It seemed Cloud held no illusions of romance. There would be no pretences, no false niceties between them. It was just sex, just the way Reno liked it.

Cloud broke the kiss when the need for air became too great, and Reno knew that his eyes were probably as glazed and dilated and lust-filled as the blond's. Sometime during the kiss the red-head had walked them backwards into a shower stall right at the end of the row, furthest from the doorway, and Reno was glad for his experience in the bathrooms. It meant less time wasted.

He spun them around, shoved Cloud into the wall, and pushed his tongue into the blond's mouth forcefully. Reno had always been rough, always been domineering, and it seemed Cloud didn't mind being pushed around in this respect. Which was good, because at least Reno wouldn't have to worry about fighting for dominance.

Reno's hands had long ago delved under the blond's shirt, one holding the shorter cadet tightly against his body, the other reaching up to toy with the blond's nipples. Cloud gasped slightly into the kiss, and Reno couldn't help the smirk. He knew Cloud felt it, knew it in the slight stiffening of the smaller boy's body, but then Cloud just brought his hands between them and started undoing Reno's belt.

_Nasty._

Two could play this game. Reno pulled back far enough to yank Cloud's shirt over his head, then a thought struck him and he twisted the cotton tee, grabbing Cloud's hands and binding them with a speed and ease that spoke of familiarity with bondage. For his part, Cloud looked as though he really liked having his arms tied behind his back – he let loose a low moan that made Reno's skin burn and his length practically  _vibrate_  with anticipation.

_Should've done this sooner._

Who knew the blond would be this hot? Cloud was practically porn-star material as he ground his hips against Reno's and sucked on the red-head's tongue. Reno made quick work of the rest of Cloud's clothes, tossing the pants over the door of the stall, barely registering that he had actually  _locked_  it sometime ago, and throwing the blond's boxers somewhere in the same direction. He stepped back to survey his handiwork and nearly came on the spot. Cloud was leaning against the wall of the stall, eyes closed, skin flushed, and lips bruised and red and parted wantonly, nipples teased into painful attention and erection standing proud.

Reno didn't need to wonder why the blond was keeping his eyes closed. He knew without a doubt just whom the blond was seeing behind his eyelids, and he was fine with it. Less hassle for him that way. He stripped off his clothes and hung them over the stall as well, then reached out and turned the water on. The initial shock of the cold water crashing over them was enough to make Cloud and Reno groan with the pleasure of the sudden change in temperature, and as the water warmed up they found themselves locked in another heated, bruising kiss while their erections ground against each others' almost painfully.

Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, Reno vaguely remembered enough to reach out and pump some of the cheap Shinra-issued soap onto his hands. Then he reached around and teased the crack of Cloud's ass. The blond shoved himself back against the fingers impatiently, and Reno obliged. He thrust two fingers hard into Cloud, delighting in the way the blond almost screamed into his mouth. It seemed Cloud liked it rough as well.

In the back of his mind, Reno wondered how an innocent little blond from a backwater mountain town had suddenly morphed into this worldly, knowing siren. He shoved the thought aside, resolving to think about it  _later_ , and then just focused on the feeling of the tight, almost virginal heat around his fingers.

Surely Cloud wasn't a  _virgin?_  Reno didn't usually enjoy being someone's first – if only for the annoying stigma that usually accompanied it. It was a rare soul that didn't place too much weight on their first – that or a very drunk soul who could barely remember the proceedings, in Reno's experience. The red-head doubted that Cloud really was a virgin though – the way he was behaving was far too  _wise_  – so he figured it had just been awhile since Cloud had done this.

He certainly wasn't going to stop  _now_.

He added another finger, probing, smirking into the endless kiss when he found what he was looking for. Cloud was practically  _whimpering_ , making desperate little mewling noises in the back of his throat that Reno had to admit were fucking hot. It almost sounded like a very familiar name, but the noise of the shower thundering down on them and the blood singing in his veins drowned it out. He didn't spend too long preparing the blond; he could tell that Cloud wanted it rough and hard. Satisfied that the other was slick enough, he spun Cloud around and bent him over, liking how very vulnerable the blond looked in this pose; head hanging down, blond spikes wet and flattened against a graceful neck and closed eyes, hands clenched almost painfully behind his back as the makeshift bonds held them in place, cheeks held apart as Reno positioned himself, and then Cloud jerked up and nearly howled as Reno slammed himself in without hesitation. He paused only momentarily to savor the feeling of being buried to the hilt, before he started up a brutal, punishing pace that made Cloud pant and groan and moan – and alright,  _that_  definitely sounded like a certain someone's name – and Reno grabbed himself a nice fistful of wet blond hair, pulling hard and making Cloud arch his body almost painfully into Reno's thrusts.

 _Fuck_.

This was  _good_. The blond was tight and hot, and the noises he was making were taking Reno very close to the edge very quickly. Not to mention the fact that Cloud - tough, smart, cool Cloud - was tied up and at Reno's mercy here in the showers in the dead of the night.

Though Reno didn't doubt that Cloud could break free anytime he wanted to. But it was the  _principle_  of the thing.

They were approaching climax quickly, and Reno was determined to make Cloud lose his control first. He knew there was no way the blond, experienced though he seemed to be, could have had as much practice as him. Adjusting his position slightly, he tightened the fist in the blond's hair – Cloud was going to have a sore head tomorrow – and gripped the slender hip with his other hand hard enough to leave bruises. Cloud's slender neck was bared to Reno this way, and the red-head couldn't resist, biting down hard on the tempting juncture between neck and shoulder – any marks here would be hidden by their shirts anyway – and relishing the stunned shriek that the action ripped from Cloud's lips.

"Seph-!"

Cloud bit down quickly on his lip, but it was done. Reno had heard it clear as day, even through the sounds of the shower, and he knew that it was only inebriation that had prevented the other cadets from learning this delightful little morsel.

Grinning to himself, he increased his pace, knowing he was hitting Cloud's prostate each time by the blond's muffled cries, and he pulled Cloud's head back further –  _damn_ , the blond was  _limber_  – and in this position he bit and nibbled on the smaller cadet's collarbone until Cloud was trembling and about to reach his limit. Then, just because Reno was a bastard, he pulled out completely and released Cloud, stepping away. The blond opened his eyes to turn and glare at the red-head accusingly, stumbling slightly as the sudden loss of support – and even if Cloud hadn't let  _his_  name slip earlier, the look in his eyes when he remembered it was Reno who'd been filling him and not  _someone else_  would have clued Reno in anyway.

Reno was smirking, even though his length throbbed painfully, needing release desperately. He had Cloud at his most vulnerable, he knew exactly how the blue-eyed boy liked it, and he knew without a doubt that the blond fantasized about the General. He looked at Cloud challengingly, then looked down at himself. The blond got the message. Cloud knelt before Reno, the shower spraying the both of them ridiculously clean, and took the red-headed cadet's length into his mouth in one smooth motion. Reno couldn't help himself - he closed his eyes, leaned back against the door, fisted his hands in Cloud's abused hair, and rode the blond's mouth hard.

Cloud was  _definitely_  not a virgin, if the way he gave head was any indication.

Heck, it seemed Cloud was used to being treated like this, used to sucking his partner off despite the musky taste that would no doubt have lingered despite the shower. So, Cloud  _liked_  being practically man-handled and pushed around – why? Reno knew enough about himself and the act to know that it was usually people who always had to be in control, who always had to be perfect and who hated themselves for not managing to  _be_ perfect, who wanted this dominance over themselves in private. And Reno also knew that Cloud was trusting him to be discreet about this, to keep it to himself – had Reno been anyone else he would have been quite touched with this show of faith; but Reno would keep his silence for an entirely different reason – this was  _his_  hard-earned knowledge, pun absolutely intended, and he wouldn't let anyone else in on it unless there was something for him to gain from the exchange. Somehow, Reno knew that Cloud was aware of that, and had accepted it the minute he told Reno he was going to the bathroom. It made things very easy for Reno, and he was quite grateful for that. He hadn't had many partners as thoughtful as Cloud, and he knew that he and the blond would be doing this regularly from now on – because the blond was hot, and because he was cool.

He was nearing the edge, and Reno looked down, nearly exploding at the sight. Cloud's eyes were closed – big surprise – his cheeks were hollowed as he sucked, and his nose was almost buried in the tuft of red hair at the base of Reno's length. Cloud was  _good_  – Reno was by no means small, and for the blond to be able to take him almost this completely indicated no small amount of experience. Somehow the knowledge that Cloud's mouth was not virginal pushed Reno closer to the brink, and he knew he was going to lose control soon if he didn't do something.

He yanked the blond's head away, turning him so that he was kneeling on the ground, face pushed into the wet tiles as water swirled dangerously close to his nostrils, and then Reno was nudging Cloud's legs open. He pushed harder at the blond's head – a demand the paler cadet understood – then moved one hand to fist Cloud's length, as his other hand gripped tight enough that Reno was sure Cloud was going to have a bald spot if they kept this up. Then he rammed himself hard into Cloud, and took him painfully even as his hand stroked the blond's erection firmly in time with his thrusts. It didn't take long – apparently giving head turned the blond on as much as it had Reno to receive it – and soon enough Cloud was screaming soundlessly into the shower water rushing around the tiles that his face was practically buried in, his smaller body shaking and trembling as it clenched around Reno sporadically and almost painfully. Reno followed after a few more hard thrusts, making sure to push himself deeper than ever as he came, biting the blond's shoulder to prevent him from crying out anyone's name.

They stayed like that for awhile, muscles delightfully sore and shaking, the warm water almost massaging despite the force of the shower, trying to get their breathing and heartbeats under control before attempting to move. Reno pulled out of Cloud slowly, and he didn't miss the slight wince that the blond tried to hide.

_Yeah, you're gonna be SORE._

That knowledge filled Reno with a smug satisfaction, and he couldn't resist rubbing it in – reaching out and shoving three fingers into Cloud so suddenly that the blond cried out hoarsely. Reno pushed his digits into that pale, abused ass until his knuckles were brushing against Cloud's cheeks – then wriggled them around just to annoy the blond.

He was content to sit there on the floor, as the shower crashed down on them, just watching the movement of his fingers in Cloud and the way the blond couldn't help moving in time to the casual toying of slim digits in his behind.

It seemed Cloud enjoyed his pleasures of the flesh. He still hadn't opened his eyes though. Not that Reno minded – he didn't care if Cloud was imagining that it was the General who had done all that to him, who had bit so hard Cloud was almost bleeding from the shoulder. THIS was one of the reasons why he preferred plain, no-holds-barred, no-strings-attached sex. It left both parties free to think of whomever they wanted, free to give their affections to anyone else.

Reaching up, Reno turned off the shower and looked down. Cloud still hadn't tried to rise or open his eyes, and a part of Reno was surprised at how readily the blond was accepting whatever was done to him. Cloud had struck Reno as the type to enjoy being in control, the kind who was used to commanding others, but now the red-head knew that that was just the public-face of Cloud. The blond was picky with partners – at least, Reno liked to think he was – but that was so that he could just let loose.

Somehow that just made Reno's body remind him of the joys of being young and hormonal.

Cloud didn't react as Reno guided his head almost gently up, didn't need to open his eyes to know what to do with the semi-flaccid flesh prodding at his lips, even as he kept thrusting back against Reno's probing fingers.

This time Cloud didn't let anything slip – he enjoyed himself, true, but he never once uttered a name. It might have had something to do with the fact that his mouth was alternately occupied with cock and fingers, or the fact that he was constantly being slammed into hard between his legs with whatever had just left his mouth – regardless, Cloud kept himself quiet, only giving slight, breathy moans that nevertheless sounded loud and clear to Reno in the silence of the bathroom. It was just the slapping sounds of flesh against flesh and pants and moans and grunts that went on late into the night, and by the time the two cadets stumbled into bed, Cloud's arms were numb and bruised, and his knees were scraped and bleeding, one side of his face felt raw, his head ached, and he couldn't really feel anything below his waist. All in all, it had been good, and Cloud didn't regret a second of it. He didn't know how he was going to do any of his private training in the morning, and he wasn't going to think about it. Sleep claimed him quickly, and he could only be glad that Reno had been thoughtful enough to clean him thoroughly before helping him dress and supporting him down the hallway to their bunks.

##

Several buildings away, in a luxurious penthouse, Sephiroth jerked awake – expecting to find himself holding a smaller body against himself. Mildly disoriented, he looked around, finding it was only an hour since he'd fallen asleep. He couldn't shake the image of spiky blond hair and baby blue eyes – he got his fair share of such dreams, but they were few and far between. Mostly he dreamed of green needles and white coats and glass walls. It would have been a welcome change, had it not been about someone so obviously younger than himself. He'd had some dreams about Zack – the First was attractive after all – but he had never acted on them. He wasn't the type to make the first move anyway.

The first time he'd woken up hard and aching in the labs had been…interesting.

Sighing slightly, he decided that since he was awake, he might as well do something about his hard-on. Turning to face his bed partner, he woke him with strong hands roving over a lithe body. As the blond man turned to face him, Sephiroth couldn't help but feel that the golden locks weren't spiky enough, the eyes weren't blue enough, the skin not delicate enough. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind ruthlessly. Might as well enjoy the moment. In the morning, Zack would come to collect his latest bed-warmer. Zack had been the one to introduce them after all – and Sephiroth had long ago figured out that it was all part of some grand plan that involved his happiness and a long-term relationship. It never worked – Sephiroth had never been emotionally involved with any of the people who spent time in his bed. Zack always looked disappointed whenever he came over in the morning and saw Sephiroth standing in his kitchen sipping at a cup of coffee, but the dark-haired First always kept his silence and handled the morning-after effects. Zack was rather adept at dealing with the waterworks – and a part of Sephiroth wondered how the man managed to remain so popular even with the trail of broken hearts left in his wake. No matter. Sephiroth appreciated Zack's thoughtfulness. It certainly made things easier for him – no sobbing, disillusioned people to comfort.

He took his time, trying to drive a pretty face and a hastily smothered smirk out of his mind. He closed his eyes and saw all too clearly, but opening his eyes only brought on a keen sense of loss so he kept them closed. He made sure not to say anything when he came.

Sated, he lay back down, and drifted off to sleep trying to forget sky-blue eyes and a youthful face flushed with pleasure.

##

The weekend had been hedonistic, to say the least. Cloud had woken up early Saturday morning, sore and aching in places he didn't even  _know_  could hurt. But it had been worth it – just for the blanketing sense of nothingness that always accompanied such explosive pleasure. When Reno had met him at breakfast with weekend passes for the both of them, he'd known that this weekend was going to be…eventful, to say the least.

Jared had been smirking at him, and Cloud had simply raised an eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at Ralph. No need to wonder what  _those_  two had been up to, if the bruises on their arms were any indication. A part of him, the shy Nibelheim part, was aghast at how loose and libertine they all were here in Midgar. It wasn't like in Gold Saucer – what happened in Gold Saucer stayed in Gold Saucer – but it was more like everyone here had pretty much accepted that when you threw a bunch of guys, adolescent and adult, together for a long time, they were bound to get jiggy with it. True, Cloud wasn't even sixteen yet – but then again, neither were some of the other cadets. He didn't know how old Reno was – doubted that even Reno himself knew his birthday – but they were about the same age, physically and mentally. Cloud had never been a stickler for propriety anyway – running around the world with AVALANCHE had resulted in some downright scandalous situations. Besides, he  _felt_  old – he was older than even Sephiroth here. So whether or not he was legal didn't matter to him – heck, this was  _Shinra_  they were at anyway.

He and Reno had headed off right after breakfast, Reno leading the way through the slums to an apartment complex that Cloud had never actually noticed before. It wasn't like he'd spent much time under the plate before Meteor anyway, and after that everything had changed. It seemed this was where Reno had lived before going to training – if the reactions of those they passed on the stairs and in the hallways were any indication. They reached a small unit eventually, it was clean, if a little sparse, but it had a bed and it seemed that was all that mattered. Cloud had simply walked over to it and begun to strip, and then Reno had been behind him, pushing him into the mattress, and that was the beginning of their weekend.

When Reno had gotten tired, he'd simply used a nearby something on Cloud.

 _No wonder he likes the Nightstick_.

Cloud was sore, trembling, but he liked it, he wanted it. There was no peace, the void in his chest wasn't being filled in the slightest, but this feeling of utter  _blankness_  was vastly preferable to the desperation and loneliness that ate at him constantly. He didn't care if he came across as a nympho or whatever it was – he just wanted to  _forget_ , and Reno was very good at helping him do that. The red-head was insatiable, and Cloud realized why the future Reno was such a skirt-chaser – Mako could turn monks into sex-maniacs, and if Reno was already THIS horny naturally, his behavior later on was perfectly understandable.

When Cloud had tried to muffle his cries, Reno had simply flipped him over and whispered into his ear.

"Scream for the General if you want – no one's gonna care."

Then Reno had just shoved Cloud's head into the mattress, and he blamed the sudden sharp spike of pain on the fact that his nose felt like it was going to break.

_Bastard._

He'd screamed though – but he doubted anyone but Reno heard it.

They kept going until late Sunday morning, when Reno had left the room and returned with a bowl of water and a towel and proceeded to help clean Cloud almost gently. The blond was grateful for that – he didn't have the strength to sit up, let alone stop his limbs from shaking like Barret doing the boogie.

At length, when they were both decent enough, Reno had led the way to some hole-in-the-wall place that he swore had the best hoagies in town. Cloud had to admit it was good, and they drank so much bottled water that the proprietor raised both eyebrows at them, but Cloud just ignored him. Walking about Wall Market had made Cloud claustrophobic – he was used to people parting the way for him, and First Tsurugi probably had something to do with it. He'd almost gotten his pockets picked several times, and would have lost his gil had he not taken the precaution of hiding his money within his clothes prior to leaving the barracks. It seemed no one was even attempting to rob Reno, and Cloud wondered at that. It was obvious the red-head was Somebody around here, but Cloud had never known much about Reno's past and this was news to him. He'd always assumed Reno had just been handpicked by the Turks from somewhere – now he was actually getting a back-story to the future operative and it was something he was quite proud of. He'd been absolutely oblivious before – now, he was finding out just how much he'd missed out on.

He considered going to see Aeris, then decided not to. Not when he was so debauched and downright decadent. Aeris' church was a sanctuary, a holy place of worship even if no one actually went to mass anymore – and Cloud couldn't bear to bring this latest sin of his to her door. She would understand, of course she would, but he didn't want to see that look in her eyes that always made him feel so goddamned inadequate and  _human_.

For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

Reno brought him to an alleyway strewn with litter and filth, and Cloud couldn't help wrinkling his nose at the stench. The red-head just looked amused, and walked ahead of him, eventually coming to a stop by a crack in the graffiti wide enough to admit a person of medium build. Cloud supposed he should feel a little wary, be a little more suspicious of Reno, but the other cadet had already seen him at his most exposed, had already  _done_ things to him that only one other person had ever done with Cloud's permission, so the blond really didn't see the point in suddenly throwing his walls up. He followed at a small distance though, and he was glad for his habit of memorizing everything and anything around him – it would make it much easier to escape, if he had to.

At length they reached a sort of room, and Reno was warmly greeted by the burly man sitting on an upturned crate. It seemed Reno was a regular, and had helped with supplies before.

"'Bout time you came to see me, Red!" The man laughed, hugging Reno almost affectionately. Reno just grinned at him before jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where Cloud was standing in the pseudo-doorway.

"Mike, Cloud. He's another cadet." Cloud didn't miss the way Mike's eyes wandered over him appreciatively, but he kept his cool, almost challenging stare trained on the other man and eventually Mike gave him a nod before turning back to Reno.

"Alright, whaddya want?" Reno just grinned almost cheekily back at him, though with a heavy dose of his usual smarminess.

"Got a couple orders for ya, Mikey. Thought you'd be happy 'bout that."

Orders? Cloud's eyebrow rose, but he didn't say anything. Was Mike a dealer? Drugs were contraband in the barracks – the one thing no cadet or SOLDIER or infantryman was allowed. It was apparently the only thing Sephiroth flat-out refused to suffer in his troops.

Mike raised an eyebrow, turning to look at Cloud.

"He's aight." Reno assured him, before turning to shoot Cloud a warning glance. Cloud just stared back impassively. He didn't honestly care if Reno was dealing, as long as  _he_  wasn't caught with any merchandise it was none of his business.

Mike nodded, and he drew back a tattered piece of cloth hanging on the wall behind him – Cloud had just assumed it was there for decoration, a wannabe-tapestry or something – and the dark-skinned man led the way into another room. Cloud's eyes widened. It was armory heaven. Almost every weapon imaginable lined the shelves, and there were crates and crates that were  _begging_  to be plundered. There was a heavy majority of firearms, but Cloud wasn't surprised. Guns were certainly easier to use, all you had to have were eyes that could focus and a relatively steady arm – but nothing said who was in charge like a nice, fat blade.

So Reno was dealing weapons to the cadets then? It explained why the other boy seemed to know everything about everyone, and for a slum kid he certainly never appeared to be short of money.

While Reno and Mike were talking supply and bargaining like fish monger and housewife, Cloud just took the opportunity to wander around the makeshift warehouse. His hands itched to reach out and  _touch_ , but he had learned that with people like Mike, hardened, cunning, shrewd businessmen in their own right, it was best to feign complete disinterest. Cloud had enough saved up for a small blade, and he was glad he hadn't squandered all his money away on alcohol or porn like some of the other cadets. He wondered what to get; knowing it would probably come at a pretty steep margin, considering it was black-market, but at the same time he kinda hoped that Reno would step in and cut him a deal.

His eyes lighted on a butterfly knife tossed almost casually among a heap of daggers and sheaths and sais, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out and taking a hold of it. The handle was smooth, it looked a lot like ivory but Cloud doubted it really was, and it was discreet enough to be hidden on his person easily. He weighed it in his palm for a moment, finding it reassuring somehow, then flipped it open. It looked sharp enough, the swedge angled perfectly to make the balisong appear double-edged. It had an additional tang pin, and he liked the way it fit in his hand, liked the weight distribution that made it so much easier to handle and manipulate – Cloud tended to do some fancy stunts with blades, and he needed his props perfect.

"It's got an IKBS." Cloud jerked his head up, turning slightly to meet Mike's calculating gaze. "That's an Ikoma-"

"I know what it is," Cloud said coldly. He was  _blond,_  not  _stupid_. "Ikoma-Korth Bearing System. A high-end ball-bearing system that maximizes smoothness. I can tell this balisong has it."

Mike and Reno looked impressed, Reno with just the slightest trace of sharp suspicion in his gaze. But Cloud didn't care – he wasn't about to look like an idiot in front of anyone, not when it came to blades. When he'd been younger, all he'd known about various daggers and swords was simply that the pointy end went into the other guy, but he'd come a long way since then. Whenever he visited Wutai, the weapons makers would hound him incessantly for an evaluation of their shuriken and katanas.

Cloud was a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands.

He was about to open his mouth and haggle for it, when Reno cut in.

"That one's free with everything else." The red-head seemed to have expected Mike's exaggerated reaction, and they started their bartering again. Cloud just stood there, nonplussed. Why the hell was Reno being so  _nice_  to him? He knew it definitely wasn't because this was  _payment_  for being a good little boy in bed, because Reno would know that Cloud wasn't the type to take kindly to allusions of prostitution. Reno himself wasn't the type to take it kindly – and Cloud could only imagine what the red-head had been through to make him that way. In the slums, prostitution was practically the norm – but Cloud had seen the way Reno bristled when looked at the wrong way.

_Something to do with his mother?_

Cloud wasn't an idiot. He knew enough to know that Reno's mother was more than likely a floozy, and he assumed Reno's aversion to being viewed as the same sort was probably due to hazing in his past.

_What's he playing at?_

Cloud really hated being beholden to anyone. With AVALANCHE it had taken Tifa awhile to get him to understand that  _friends_  didn't keep track of favors done or received, it was just something they did for one another. It had taken awhile to actually sink in – even though Cloud had never viewed Tifa as the manipulative, calculating sort. He had just escaped from Hojo, and Zack was dead. Even if he hadn't remembered any of it at first, the memory of being used, being seen as a tool, being looked at with those sharp, greedy eyes, it had all left a very deep impression on him.

_Scared for life, scarred for life._

And Cloud knew enough about Reno to know that he didn't give something for nothing.

He supposed he should cut in and reject Reno's kindness, but not only was it saving him a significant sum of money, refusing Reno now would make him lose face in front of Mike - and Cloud knew how things worked in the slums. It was about reputation and respect, the threat of might more than the actual, constant proof of it. Word spread fast, and it seemed that Reno had spent most of his life building up a reputation here in the slums – even if the red-head was a Turk through and through, Cloud was loathe to shame him and make an enemy of a fellow cadet. Reno would definitely come in handy in future, and not just with respect to 'other physical pursuits'.

He kept his mouth shut and watched the proceedings with interest. Cloud had always liked watching people interact, he found them fascinating because reactions and responses were always so varied and entertaining – he supposed he was only making excuses for his antisocial behavior, but he knew that he only gave people headaches when he spoke to them anyway. At least that was what Barret and Cid said.

After almost ten more minutes of heated haggling, Mike threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. It seemed Reno was victorious.

They left after awhile, Cloud receiving a sheath for his butterfly knife as well. Reno had a nondescript paper bag tucked under his arm, and it looked for all the world as though all that the red-head was carrying was a simple bag of books. He was good, Cloud gave him that. No wonder the Turks snapped him up.

They reached the barracks with some time to spare before dinner, and Reno disappeared after giving Cloud a light slap on the shoulder.

No need to wonder what the red-head was up to.

Cloud simply headed to his bunk, the balisong already securely ensconced within his shirt. He would have to switch its hiding place regularly – cadet training often resulted in his shirt getting all wet and sticking to his torso – but Cloud preferred having his knives either on his arms or around his waist. It was easier to reach, especially with hands tied behind your back.

_Speaking of which…_

He looked down at his arms. He looked  _abused_. This was going to take some very creative explaining or some very deadly glares.

Brian greeted him as usual – just as he had the previous week, and this time Cloud had an answer for him. They chatted awhile about Battle Tactics class, Brian asking to borrow Cloud's homework as well, which made Cloud's lips twitch slightly, and then Ray jumped in and asked for Cloud's Materia Theory work, and the blond couldn't hold back the amused lift to his mouth.

_I'm so preppy it's actually funny._

It seemed even in this world he would be The Man That Everyone Turned To For Help. Except this time it wasn't at all life-threatening – alright, who was he kidding, it was pretty damned serious because SOLDIER was involved – and it was actually rather funny. Cloud had always found solace in books, had become used to viewing the world and learning life through the written word because he couldn't understand the people around him and the way they treated him. He had been a bit of a nerd, he realized, but apparently now he wasn't being seen as a geek or whatever – he was just the cool, smart guy who always had the answers.

It felt  _good_.

At dinner Cloud and Reno were joined by most of their bunk, excepting Matt's friends. Cloud was still waiting for the whiplash of  _that_  fiasco, and he knew they were just biding their time, waiting for him to grow lax and over-confident in his new role. Well, they would have to wait a  _very_  long time. Cloud had been called Mr Paranoid, Mr Obsessive-Compulsive, Mr Has-A-Stick-Up-His-Ass-And-Really-Needs-To-Chill-The-Fuck-Out more times than he could remember. He wasn't about to let a bunch of beach-going brats get the better of him.

 _My, what a snobby little jackass YOU'RE turning out to be_.

It was true, Cloud realized. He was developing a holier-than-thou attitude, and it wasn't like him at all. Knowing he was good was one thing, gloating over it was simply not his style.

_I've been spending too much time with Reno._

Cloud would either have to humble himself, or someone else would do it for him - and he knew he wasn't going to like it if it was the latter case.

It was easy to get off his high horse when he reminded himself of what was at stake, of what he'd failed to do before. And even though Cloud was in  _pain_  because Reno had been rough and rather brutal, he would wake up early tomorrow and get his private training in. It was approaching the end of the month, and he hadn't forgotten his goals. He would make it or break it – simple as that.

He thought about setting himself another goal – get to know Zack before the month's end – but thought the better of it. If he approached Zack, it would just be a case of cadet worshipping First Class, and Cloud would die before giving Zack any reason to see him as that. So he would have to wait for the First to approach him, and he railed at his lack of control. He didn't like leaving the ball in someone else's court, liked taking charge and doing it  _his_  way because then at least he'd know what was going on. The experiences with Hojo and Sephiroth had instilled in him a strong desire to be aware and fully-informed so that no one could ever use him for their own ends again. Cloud hesitated at that – it seemed Zack himself - wonderful, caring, generous Zack - was up to something,  _wanted_  something, and Cloud wondered if that had been the reason why Zack had approached him before. It couldn't be, not with what Cloud knew of the man, not with everything that Zack had sacrificed for and given to Cloud. No, Zack was probably just looking out for the cadets and,  _maybe_ , figuring out a way to get to know them.

That was probably it.  _That_  sounded more like the Zack Fair that Cloud knew.

After dinner Reno had simply snatched Cloud's homework from the other boys and copied everything, and Cloud just amused himself with watching some of the other cadets attempt to peek at his work while dealing with their hangovers. Weekends in the barracks meant it was permanently beer-o-clock, and hair of the dog generally turned into another drink-fest.

When the "lights out" bellow came, Cloud welcomed it, lying back and trying not to wince at the pain that flared all over his body. It had been a welcome diversion, a meaningless, emotionless act of physical comfort, and Cloud wasn't going to beat himself up over it. A part of him felt bad – because although he wasn't technically a virgin, this body had first partaken of sex with Reno and not  _him_. But it didn't matter –  _he_  had never once shown such interest in Cloud, and the blond actually preferred that it was Reno who was the first and not a twisted scientist. In the future Cloud hadn't really cared about the fact that his partner wasn't who he really wanted –  _he_  was dead and gone, by Cloud's hand no less, and his body had been defiled already anyway.

_Quit thinking about it and SLEEP._

Cloud waited until everyone else was deep in slumber first though. No matter how exhausted he was, he wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep while there was still someone awake nearby. It didn't take long, but it was enough time for his mind to wander to an aristocratic face and a powerfully but leanly muscled body. Even with his eyes closed, Cloud had been only too aware of the fact that it was Reno in him, and his attempts to convince himself otherwise had felt more like a mockery of  _him_  than anything else.

Cloud was a glutton for punishment.

Finally, the breathings around him deepened and evened out, and Cloud allowed himself to drift off and dream of piercing green eyes on him as pale, corded arms held him close.

##

Zack hadn't been able to find the little blond anywhere. It was the weekend, and from what he remembered of his cadet days it usually meant that the trainees would be lying in bed recovering from Friday night's alcohol binge and preparing themselves for Saturday's. But the tough little chocobo was nowhere to be found, and neither was the lanky, street-smart red-head that had taken to being by the blond's side. Zack frowned slightly at that. Were those two..?

He doubted it. It was probably just a case of two cadets shacking up and getting it on while in training together – as Zack himself had done on numerous occasions with his fellow trainees. Besides, who  _wouldn't_  find the General attractive? Zack knew that no matter how good the red-head was in bed, the little blond wouldn't be able to resist Sephiroth. Even Zack wasn't immune to the man's magnetism, and it was only the fact that they were friends and Zack really didn't want to prove his friend right about people that was stopping the First from making a move. It was hard though, especially when he spent so much time around Sephiroth. The man was Sex On Legs, and Zack was only human.

It didn't help that he knew Sephiroth so well that the more he found out about his superior officer the harder it was not to be attracted to him. Zack had done his own digging, had figured out that Seph had grown up in the labs, viewed as an experiment, destined to become The General. It called out to the softer side of him, made him want to just  _hold_  Sephiroth and teach him what it meant to be happy. But Zack was wise enough to know that that wouldn't work – not between them. Sephiroth had come to regard Zack as his friend, had come to respect Zack as someone who was always there for him but who would never jump him, and Zack wasn't about to jeopardize that for all the sexual gratification in the world.

It didn't stop him from picking out long-haired, green-eyed partners for himself though.

Eventually Zack threw in the towel. It appeared Spiky wasn't going to be found anywhere on base, and neither was that slum kid that he was almost always with. Zack wandered over to the office and found out about the weekend passes by flirting with the clerk and nonchalantly flipping through the books. He didn't know how he was feeling about the fact that the little blond was obviously doing the bada-bing-bada-boom with someone else – it was selfish of him to expect that a teenaged boy would hold out for someone as out of reach as the General. A part of Zack felt something akin to respect for the kid – for not being so stupidly worshipping of Sephiroth (who was, at the moment at least,  _quite_  out of the blond's league) that he would deny himself his fun. And Zack had never been able to deny himself sex anyway – it was the best part of being human, being a man, being a SOLDIER and surrounded by ridiculously large numbers of Bad Boys – Zack considered himself very fortunate indeed.

As it was, Saturday morning had found him in Seph's  _massive_  apartment dealing with another pretender to the General's heart. It was never pretty, and it was only because Zack was The Man's Best Friend that he did this again and again.

 _Another one bites the dust_.

Zack had thought this latest one would do it too – the Lieutenant was pretty, shorter than Sephiroth (it wasn't very hard to be shorter than the General), and effeminate enough to rouse  _some_  feelings of chivalry. But it seemed that Zack's Madam duties would continue, at least for awhile more. He really hoped he'd get it right next time – he had a feeling the Strife kid was perfect for the role, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to approach the kid just yet, if only because he was still trying to convince himself that he wasn't  _only_  interested in getting the cadet to be The One.

Now if only the little chocobo would just blow himself up with Materia or shoot himself in the foot so that Zack had a reason to rush to his rescue…

Sighing, Zack decided to quit haunting the cadet barracks and see to his own needs. It was pretty tempting to take up the offers some of the cadets were practically  _throwing_  at him, but it would be an abuse of authority, or it might be seen as favoritism, and Zack didn't want to get tangled up in  _that_  mess again. The last time had been the last time. Sephiroth had practically skewered Zack with the Masamune for causing him so much paperwork when the shit hit the fan, and the dark-haired First still got nightmares over the unholy gleam in the General's eyes from that time. No, Zack had learned his lesson, and he was sticking with fellow SOLDIERS. He'd already been through all of them, as he always did when the latest batch of cadets was approaching SOLDIER Entrance Exams, but he supposed he could deal with a repeat performance.

He wondered when he'd gotten so obsessed with Sephiroth's happiness that he'd forgotten about his own. Zack had always wanted a long-term relationship, had always longed for someone to come home to. But shacking up with another SOLDIER wouldn't do – the threat of death or an undercover mission would always be hanging over their heads, and Zack wasn't about to marry another warrior. He preferred taking care of others, and he had always wanted children of his own. He knew he'd make a great dad.

Still, he was pretty young, so he decided he'd just enjoy himself while his bachelorhood lasted. It certainly kept things interesting.

On his way back to the SOLDIER apartments, he spotted a spiky blond head and vivid red hair bobbing along towards the cadet barracks. He squinted slightly, the afternoon sun reflecting off the numerous glass windows nearby and making the glare hurt his eyes. Yes, it was Strife and Reno-no-last-name. Blondie looked like he was  _tottering_. That was a lovely word, in Zack's opinion. Tottering, tottering,  _tottering_.

Zack recognized that funny way of walking though. Someone had had a  _very_  good time. He scowled slightly, then chided himself. If the kid was getting it on already, even though he wasn't sixteen yet, then it would just make things easier when the time came. Instantly he wanted to kick himself. Just where did  _he_  get off viewing cadets as nothing more than leg-spreaders for Sephiroth anyway? It was downright shameful and disgusting, and Zack wasn't going to think like that anymore.

He turned and walked off quickly towards his apartment, taking out his cell-phone and flipping it open, perusing his very long contact list.

_Eenie, meenie, miney, moe…_

Tonight was going to be a good night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (1): The "somebody was gonna get hurt real bad" line in Cloud's part (where he encounters Hojo and Sephiroth in the hallway) is a Russell Peters' line – the "Somebody's gonna get hurt real bad" joke that he likes to tell.
> 
> A/N (2): "Pointy end went into the other guy" – a variation of the line from Zorro. (Antonio Banderas to Anthony Hopkins: "Pointy end goes into the other guy.")
> 
> A/N (3): "Scared for life, scarred for life" – a quote from the book 'So Much To Tell You' by John Marsden.
> 
> A/N(4): The "Cloud was a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands" line alludes to the scene in Gone in 60 Seconds where Nicolas Cage runs his hands along his leather jacket and says "I am a bad man."
> 
> A/N (5): This chapter is LONG – almost 24,000 words. I was thinking of cutting out the rather citrusy scene, but oh well. For those of you who aren't fans of RenoCloud, those two AREN'T in a relationship and this story IS a SephCloud fic. Cloud is simply finding some relief in Reno, and vice versa. It was not my intention to make Cloud some across as a nymphomaniac or anything of the sort – he isn't a saint.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

Rufus had been…surprised, to say the least, when Reno had returned with news of Cloud's latest adventure. Tseng had instantly started chiding the red-head for drinking on the job, but Reno had been adamant, and had sworn on the Nightstick that Valentine could back him up. If there was one person whom Tseng absolutely deferred to, it was the ex-Turk. So it seemed Cloud really  _had_  been sent back in time.

Rufus wondered what that meant for him. He wasn't a fool – he knew his father hadn't been a saint, had been the cause of so much unpleasantness and suffering it was a wonder no one was still out for Shinra blood. Rufus, for his part, had been succeeding in re-building a somewhat decent reputation for Shinra, and now Cloud was going back to change the course of history.

Cloud always  _could_  be counted on to make a wonderful mess of things.

Rufus wasn't an idiot – he knew how people saw him, knew he was low on anyone's list. He didn't honestly care. He had his money - which therefore gave him some semblance of power - and he had the Turks to protect him. Cloud had always appeared apathetic towards Rufus and his reputation anyway, had never seemed to care much for the blond Shinra – but then again, the swordsman practically  _mainlined_  indifference.

Sephiroth was the only one who could get Cloud's knickers in a twist.

He adjusted his cufflinks, if only to give himself something to do whilst helo-ing to Edge. Rufus was on his way to pay a surprise visit to Reeve – he'd learned it was best to just walk right into the WRO President's office. Whenever Rufus bothered to make an appointment – an  _appointment_  – to see the man who used to work for _him_  - AVALANCHE always just  _happened_  to be there to 'talk to Reeve'. It probably had something to do with that bungling little animated stuffed toy. Rufus didn't care if Barret was there – the ex-terrorist was still relatively obtuse when it came to Rufus' subtle machinations –  _how_  the man had amassed such a fortune when he was so coarse and crude was beyond Rufus - but if Valentine was there, Rufus wouldn't be able to lie to save his life. The ex-Turk had an uncanny way of seeing right though him, seeing right through anyone, and Rufus had often wondered if it was because Tseng kept the immortal in the loop more than was strictly necessary. The blond didn't doubt Tseng's loyalty, not after everything, but he knew that Tseng held a great deal of respect for Valentine, and such almost-reverence was dangerous.

Rufus wanted his answers, and, if he didn't like them, he would need to figure out how to prevent this. He knew that there was no way that Cetra girl would communicate with him, let alone be  _nice_  to him – even though she was apparently a total angel to everyone – which left Rufus with only one other option – Reeve Tuesti. If there was anyone in the world smart enough to figure out this time-space continuum and work out a way of stopping it, it would be the President of WRO. There weren't any mad scientists left that Rufus could turn to anyway.

He'd had some time to think about his options since Reno had returned stinking of alcohol – had waited a full week while the Turks went out to gather intel. He supposed that, since Strife obviously didn't see him as a threat, his position was relatively secure. If Strife even went so far as to get Rufus' father out of the picture, so much the better. Rufus held little love for the man who'd sired him, knew that he had been brought into the world solely to ensure that Shinra Company stayed in the hands of a Shinra. So he didn't much care if daddy died sooner rather than later – it just meant that he could sit on the throne quicker. He knew that he was a different man now – in the past, he would never have trusted anyone the way he trusted the Turks presently – but he could count on his younger self to know what to do to ensure he remained in power. Rufus had never been an idiot, had been raised ruthless and trained to control and manipulate others, and he knew that even without all this experience, his younger self would recognize Strife as someone dangerous – and would therefore not risk antagonizing the man and making an enemy of him.

Rufus had never had a death wish.

_Unlike some people._

He wondered if Cloud's apathy was perhaps due in part to jealousy – after all, Rufus had not only been born into a life of privilege and wealth and perfection, but he had known the General when he'd been sane, had spoken to him plenty of times. If it wasn't for the fact that neither Rufus nor Sephiroth ever made the first move, they probably would have warmed each others' beds. Rufus knew he was good-looking, knew he was dashing, and Sephiroth had ever had an eye for beauty.

He wished he'd taken the opportunity before. There was no doubt about it, Sephiroth was the best-looking thing that had ever breathed the Planet's polluted air – and now he was dead and gone and Rufus had never had a chance to experience the General's prowess for himself.

No matter – he would get Reeve to tell him what was going on, what was likely to happen. And if he couldn't change anything, then at least he would ensure that he remained aware of what was going on somehow. Rufus had seen Reno looking a little disoriented, and Reno himself appeared to be confusing certain things – no matter how drunk the red-head got he could always be counted on to be a Turk – so this  _had_  to be because of Cloud. He hadn't known that Reno and Cloud had been cadets together, had never really bothered to ask anyway, but from the way Reno was behaving, it seemed Cloud's actions were having a ripple effect already, and Rufus would be damned before he allowed himself to be written off.

He was Shinra, and he would never be anything else.

##

Aeris wondered when Cloud was going to come and visit her. Sunday had come and gone, and curiosity had led her to speak to the Lifestream to enquire about Cloud. She'd known he hadn't been in any danger, would have been alerted somehow had the blond gotten into trouble, so she had been a little surprised to hear Cloud's thoughts. She supposed it was rather rude of her – prying into others' minds as and when she liked, but she really wanted answers, and Cloud could always be counted on to give anything but.

For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

It was all a little too much, she mused. First Zack and then Cloud, always treating her like a glass doll. She supposed it couldn't be helped – Cloud had always treated women with a kind of reverence that was probably the reason why he had never looked at a female  _that_  way. To him, they were creatures of beauty, symbols of dreams and warmth and everything that was good in his life, and he would never allow himself to sully them somehow. She really hadn't been surprised to learn of Cloud's true love – it certainly wouldn't have been a  _woman_.

And Zack…Aeris supposed she had loved him as every damsel loved a knight. She had been young then, much more innocent, and meeting a dashing, charming young SOLDIER could certainly make even a worldlier woman swoon. Zack too had treated Aeris as his little glass doll, as though she was a precious porcelain vase that held all his better dreams and deeds, and he had never shown her anything but kindness and generosity and sweet, sweet love. It wounded that Zack hadn't trusted Aeris to love him if she knew his true nature. As a girl, she had been blind to it – blind to everything but his brilliant smile and strong embrace. His disappearance had hurt, but the truth had hurt more. She had thought, at first, that he had simply grown weary of her, a silly little girl from the slums who was afraid of the sky – and then when she had found out that he hadn't left her of his own free will, that he had been caged and experimented on and then hunted and finally  _massacred_ , she had wished that he really  _had_  just run off with some other woman.

Zack was alive here - alive and strong and powerful. A part of Aeris longed to see him again, because even though physically she was a teenager, she hoped that her maturity would shine through and allow Zack to be himself around her – darkness and all. She remembered that the first time around, Zack had come crashing through her roof like a falling star  _before_  he'd been a First Class. Now it seemed he already was, but they still hadn't met yet. She wondered at that, but her queries to the other Ancients had resulted in the same answer repeated so many different ways that Aeris had been quite tempted to pull a Sephiroth on them.

Sending Cloud back had changed a lot of things.

She had to admit, she was a little lonely. Everyone had always assumed that, since she was a Cetra, she had the Lifestream to keep her company. Some of them no doubt thought that all she needed to be happy were her flowers. That might have been true before, when she'd been a young girl, but this Aeris was older, wiser, and she had gotten so used to always keeping herself around Cloud that this physical separation was rather painful. She longed for Seventh Heaven, for Tifa's warmth and strength, for Barret's gruff affection. Tifa had been slightly unfriendly in the beginning, when they'd first met, but such was the dark-haired pugilist's way that eventually she came to treat Aeris as the sister she'd never had. Aeris missed that – it was hard being alone when she knew what it was like to have friends,  _true_  friends. Her death had hurt them all, and she was sorry for that – but most of all she was sorry that Cloud felt it was his fault somehow.

Sighing, she knelt in the flower bed, deciding that there were enough blooms to take to Wall Market to sell, just to give herself something to do – church full of flowers, pocket full of money and all that. She supposed Cloud would come and see her in his own time, he certainly hadn't  _forgotten_  her. And as for Zack…well, all she could do was pray. She knew they would meet somehow, because Zack had his own role to play in everything, but she was hoping it would be sooner rather than later. She missed him – no longer could she just speak to him and have him hold her as they had in the Lifestream – here, he was alive, and he didn't know her. Yet.

_Patience is a virtue._

##

Sephiroth had been making steady progress through his paperwork since coming into work at 6:30AM. Mondays tended to see documents multiply like rabbits – which was odd because no one but him worked during the weekends, so Sephiroth had never managed to figure out why he always had a mountain of paperwork on his desk every Monday morning.

Then he heard someone bounding down the hallway from the elevator. He glanced at the ornate Wutaian hand-made clock on the wall. It was 9AM.

_Something's wrong._

Zack had never gotten to work anytime before 11AM.

The door burst open and a black tornado swept into the room.

"Good morning, Seph!"

He didn't allow his eyebrow to twitch. Sephiroth had come to enjoy the quiet of mornings, the calm that came from Zack's absence. Now Zack was here on time, and his beloved solitude had been thrown out the window by The Black Porcupine.

Zack threw himself into his favorite leather chair and thunked his booted feet onto Sephiroth's table, never mind that there were papers and files neatly covering the entire expanse of solid teak.

Sephiroth kept himself focused on his work. Maybe if he ignored Zack the man would go harass someone else.

_Don't get your hopes up._

"So, have you heard anything about Cloud?"

Sephiroth was tempted to raise an eyebrow at Zack's informal use of Strife's first name, but such was Zack's way he supposed. He made no reply.

"I just wish I could  _talk_  to him, you know?" Zack shifted, leaning forward slightly to loosely clasp his hands on his knees. Sephiroth could tell the other man was agitated, but he wasn't going to be nice to the First just because he'd actually come into work on time for once.

"Maybe then I could find out how he's managing to improve so quickly, you know? I dunno, I just wanna know what happened!" Zack huffed, pulling his feet of the table and crossing an ankle over a knee, his leg bouncing slightly. Sephiroth kept his attention on the document in front of him – it was a report on recent Genesis clone activity. He resolutely ignored the pang of  _something_  in his chest and focused on pretending to be reading while Zack blathered on.

_Red-heads._

"But if I just went up and spoke to the kid then, you know, everyone's gonna say it's favoritism or whatever and…well…remember what happened  _last_  time." Zack switched positions, placing his other leg on top and bouncing even more. Yes, Sephiroth remembered very well what had happened last time – he'd been stuck in his office for three days dealing with report after report on the matter.

"So…I dunno! How can I go up to the kid without making it, you know, inappropriate or whatever? I mean, why should anyone  _care_  whether or not I'm coming on to the kid? It's not like no one else has hooked up with cadets! I mean, it's  _my_  life!" Zack was making the leather chair vibrate. Sephiroth hoped he wouldn't break it. He didn't like having to requisition new equipment just because Zack was hyperactive and had ADD.

"I just…I dunno what to do, Seph." A frustrated hand through his hair. Zack was really worked up about this, Sephiroth noted with mild surprise. He'd known Zack, being as irrepressibly curious as he was, would want to know what was going on, but this went far beyond the interest of a SOLDIER in a cadet who was displaying skills above his level.

_Is he…?_

It wasn't his business. And it seemed Zack was aware enough not to be as…indiscreet as before.

"I've been kinda hoping the kid would just get hurt during training, you know? Just so I have an excuse to go up to him – I mean, it's not  _that_  out of the ordinary if a First Class checks up on an injured cadet. Plus with my rank and all, it's OK, isn't it?" Zack was looking at him beseechingly, Sephiroth could tell from that tone of voice. He resolutely ignored the dark-haired SOLDIER.

_Keep going…_

"But he's too good to injure himself, and I don't want him getting beaten by the other cadets, not that they'd try anything, I don't think. He IS good. But I dunno if I could just walk up to him and ask him about where he learned all that. Even if I AM Brigadier General or whatever the hell my rank is now."

_Almost there…_

There was a brief moment of silence that Sephiroth had come to associate with the proverbial light bulb going on over Zack's head.

"I could just go observe training, right? And maybe I could talk to him a little or something then. I mean, if anyone asks, I'm just checking out future SOLDIERs – it's OK, right? I'm just doing my job – looking out for my men, scouting for new talents, yada yada yada."

_Boom._

Sephiroth knew better than to give Zack any indication that he agreed. If he did, then Zack would either get suspicious or think that it was OK to whine at his superior officer about cadets. It wasn't that it was unusual, and Zack was right. As Brigadier General he had every right to visit cadets and involve himself in their progress. Sephiroth just wished Zack could have figured it out on his own without needing the General's permission or a pat on the head or whatever it was that Zack had wanted from the monologue.

"OK! I'm off! See ya, Seph!" With that, the First bounded off the leather chair – it gave a rather pained squeak, Sephiroth really hoped it wouldn't fall apart – and rushed out of the room, slamming the door rather excitedly behind him. The minute it closed on Zack, Sephiroth allowed himself a small smirk.

_Too easy._

##

Jeffries had decided to have a free-sparring session. Cloud couldn't remember much of his days as a cadet, but he couldn't forget the pain of such classes. He had cringed slightly when the sergeant had announced it, and then he'd wanted to cringe again when Reno insisted on being partnered with him.

Reno fought dirty.

As it was, the mats had turned into a field of chaos – fists were flying, curses were sung, bodies were tumbling - and it was more like a bar-room brawl than a martial arts lesson. It reminded Cloud of the times when Cid and Barret would get drunk and start trouble with other patrons just because they figured that Cloud wouldn't let anything happen to them. Most of the time, Cloud would just pick his drink up and head off to the room Tifa always kept ready for him. Vincent would bring a bottle of whisky up with him and the two of them would sit there, sipping their drinks and listening to the sounds of the fight going on down below. Sometimes they would make bets on how soon Tifa would step in – she usually held out until a table broke. Then all they would hear were the cries of pain from all the men being thrown out onto the street, followed by curses colorful enough to make even Cid blush.

The woman had a temper.

Reno was a good opponent when it came to hand-to-hand combat. The red-head was quick on his feet, and had a knack for targeting parts of the body that  _really_  hurt when hit. Cloud could only be glad that he had his experiences and higher pain threshold to back him – he'd be a sniveling, aching wreck otherwise. It didn't help that he was still sore from the weekend (Reno wasn't exactly  _small_ ), and in his private training he had pushed himself hard to reach his goals. But he counted himself lucky that Reno wasn't yet fully-trained or genetically-enhanced the way the Turks had to be – plus, he had to learn to take hits sooner or later. SOLDIERs were thrown into the 'bull-ring' several times a week – just to condition them to being beaten, because it wouldn't do for them to start bawling every time they got bonked on the head. And now Cloud had taken enough hits from Reno to consider himself a Very Bad Man. He'd landed his own fair share of blows on the red-head, but to Reno's credit he had brushed them off as though they were nothing but loving swats. Either that or the future Turk figured that the less weakness he showed, the more demoralized Cloud would be. Had it been the younger Cloud, Reno's ploy would have worked, but this older Cloud  _knew_  he'd hit some very sensitive areas, and he knew enough of his strength and the human body to know that Reno  _had_  to be in pain. Plus, he had the advantage of experience, stamina, and reflexes that, although nowhere near what they would become, were still quick enough here to protect him from the worst of blows and land some decent hits of his own.

It helped that Cloud himself had no qualms about fighting dirty. 'Below the belt' only worked on the Sports Channel – in real life, it was kill or be killed. And Cloud's warrior instincts were in high form today, because sparring against Reno brought back memories and because Reno was proving to be a pretty good opponent – it was enough to make Cloud allow his sub-conscious to take over, allow his instincts to guide him as they usually did when he was actually  _in_  the moment. He wasn't too concerned about controlling himself – Reno could take whatever he threw at him – and this younger body wasn't genetically-enhanced yet.

Cloud was  _loving_  it.

He hadn't had a good workout in awhile – in the future, what with all his speed and skills, there hadn't been anyone alive who could make him work for a victory. Sometimes he'd had to resort to ditching First Tsurugi and just charging at Vincent with nothing but his gloved hands and booted feet to be at least forced to put some effort into a spar. Now though, he was having to put his all into the fight, and it made him feel more whole, more himself, and more like a man than he had in a long time. Cloud wasn't the war-mongering sort, he'd fought for world peace after all, but he also relished a challenge, and too often he was simply disappointed with the level of ability in his opponents.

He'd been toying with the idea of getting Cid and Barret and Yuffie and Tifa and Vincent to gang up on him in a fight, but he knew they'd either hold back (as in Tifa's case), be too old (as in Barret's case), be winded too quickly (as in Cid's case), be too interested in stealing his Materia (as in Yuffie's case) or just be too offended (as in Vincent's case). Well, at least now he didn't have to do that. Without Hojo's experiments, Cloud would actually have to  _work_  at becoming the best, and he was quite looking forward to it – if only because it had been a long time since he'd had to give his all in a fight. He knew he couldn't afford to fail, HAD to get stronger and faster, but at least his skill, when it finally came, would be all his own, would be entirely the result of his blood, sweat, and tears – never mind that his experience and maturity were the effects of time-traveling.

 _Can't have EVERYTHING_.

Reno suddenly dropped low, and Cloud knew what was coming next, had had this particular move pulled on himself enough times to know that it would hurt for days afterward if he didn't do something quickly. He threw himself to the left, rolling to his feet despite the way his body – especially his back – protested, and, keeping himself in a low crouch, lashed out at Reno's face. The red-head dodged, still crouched low on the ground, then suddenly his left leg was flying through the air towards Cloud's ribs, and Cloud threw himself to the ground, twisting in mid-air in such a way that his entire body  _screamed_ , bringing his legs up and aiming for Reno's torso while his arms pushed off the ground in an awkward back-hand-spring. Nothing could have prepared Reno for this move, which was yet another one that Cloud had stolen off Tifa – the heels of Cloud's boots connected with Reno's sternum and the red-head went tumbling backwards with a pained grunt. Instantly Cloud launched himself at the downed cadet, only to have to bring his arms up quickly to block Reno's fist. The red-head was the type to fight back no matter how much pain he was in, to react instinctively with a fist to the face, and Cloud was suddenly reminded of why Reno had been such a pain in the ass before the Turk had decided to help him out with saving the world. Not that he wasn't a pain in the ass now – but that was for an entirely different reason.

Reno was  _good_.

Cloud brought his knee up, going for Reno's groin, and the red-head quickly rolled over so that he was lying partly face-first on the ground, then brought his leg around quickly in a wide arc to sweep Cloud's feet out from under him. Cloud simply flipped himself over Reno, twisting just before landing and targeting a low side-kick at the other boy, who had by this time gotten to his feet and was aiming a punch at Cloud's nose.

Reno dodged the kick, but Cloud didn't let up, tucking his head in, hunching his shoulders slightly to protect the back of his neck from the taller cadet, while spinning around and using his right elbow to strike Reno's ribs. The red-head blocked it, so Cloud just used his momentum to carry him around, his left hand going for Reno's neck in a finger-knife thrust. The other cadet lived up to his street-rat reputation – he threw himself forward, one foot going up behind him to remove any chances of Cloud ever celebrating Father's Day. Cloud just cart-wheeled away.

They stood there, panting heavily, chests heaving from the exertion, and each willing the other to just  _roll over and_   _die_  so that they could stop and get a rest, when suddenly someone was clapping. Startled, they looked around, and Cloud's heart nearly flew out of his mouth.

Zack was applauding.

_Oh, FUCK._

Cloud definitely didn't remember this.

It seemed that sometime during his and Reno's spar, all the other cadets had finished theirs, and everyone was gathered around the mats to watch Cloud and Reno duke it out. Jared was holding a wet towel to his eye, Ray had a split lip, and almost every other cadet sported at least one new bruise or bleeding nose. Jeffries just looked like a proud papa.

Cloud met Reno's gaze – the red-head looked as stunned as Cloud felt.

" _Damn_ , you two are  _good_!" Zack said cheerfully, advancing across the mats towards the two flabbergasted cadets who quickly straightened and turned to salute him. The First chuckled, waving off their formality with his usual amused humility, and held out his hand to Cloud.

"Good job." Cloud took the hand on auto-pilot, simply because his mother had ingrained good manners in him from a young age, and suddenly he was very grateful for her etiquette lessons. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Zack's, and his mind had become a heavy-metal concert. So many thoughts were screaming, shrieking, vying for attention - he couldn't believe that Zack was  _here_ , that Zack was  _shaking his hand_ , that Zack was  _looking straight at him_ , that Zack was  _smiling at him_ , that Zack had been  _watching him_ , and that  _ZACK WAS HERE._

Some part of the older Cloud managed to rise to the forefront of the ruckus and remind him that  _he looked like a bloody idiot_  just gaping at Zack like a chocobo that had gotten socked in its fluffy stomach.

He snapped his mouth shut quickly. His throat worked twice before he managed to squeeze out a hoarse "Thank you, sir" – mentally he winced at his thready tone, but he figured Zack would just blame it on Cloud being exhausted from the fight.

Zack held his hand for a few seconds longer than was necessary, and if Cloud hadn't been staring straight into his deep blue eyes, if Cloud hadn't been old enough to know the difference, he wouldn't have noticed the split second when Zack's eyes were thoughtful rather than smiling.

Then the First just nodded, releasing Cloud's sweaty hand and turning to Reno.

"Good work." Reno seemed to have gathered his wits, and he replied with a respectful "Thank you, sir" that sounded a damn sight more collected than Cloud's. Cloud really wanted to smack him.

Zack didn't hold Reno's hand for long, turning back to Cloud as soon as Reno had replied. The look on his face would have fooled anyone else, but Cloud knew Zack was trying to figure out how a short, skinny hillbilly had managed to hold his own against a taller, tougher street-fighter. He wiped his face clean of expression, standing straight even though his muscles were protesting every little thing, and trying to get his breathing under control.

Dimly he was aware that his heart was beating faster than it had during the entirety of the fight, and he knew he was freaking out over being so close to Zack.

_Be a MAN, dammit._

But he had missed Zack terribly. And he'd longed for the chance to see him, to be near him, so that he could just throw himself to the ground and beg for forgiveness and plead with Zack never to leave him, never to sacrifice his life for him, never to make Cloud have to live out both their lives because he couldn't refuse a dying friend's wish.

If he sank to his knees right now, Reno might get other ideas.

Speaking of 'other physical pursuits'…

Cloud was suddenly glad that cadets had to wear their God-awful fatigues everywhere. It was helping to hide the bruises on his legs and his  _very_  scraped knees. He didn't miss the way Zack's eyes lingered on his arms, knew what he was seeing without even looking down.

Zack's lack of reaction spoke volumes to Cloud – though he was having trouble translating. Zack wasn't an idiot, he  _had_  to know what the bruises meant, so why the indifference? Did he not care? It hurt a little to think that, but Cloud stomped the feeling out ruthlessly. Why should Zack care what he did? He was just a cadet trying to pass his exams, and Zack was a First Class SOLDIER. Zack didn't know Cloud, hadn't made friends with the blond yet, so why should the dark-haired man give a damn about Cloud's private life?

Or maybe, and this thought made Cloud's heart flutter a little – in fear or delight, he didn't want to know - just maybe, Zack already knew about what Cloud had been up to? That would explain the lack of reaction – but then, how had he found out? Had Reno tattled? Had Reno perhaps told the other cadets about how needy and desperate and downright  _willing_  Cloud could get? Had they all had a laugh about it, were they all calling him the resident ho? Cloud didn't think so – the red-head was a sneaky bastard but this was a whole other level of bastardliness. So if Reno hadn't bragged about getting Cloud to spread his legs, then how had Zack found out? Had someone else noticed and told? Jared, perhaps? He'd certainly seemed amused by Cloud's and Reno's 'activities'. Or had Zack found out on his own? How? And why? It would mean that Zack had done his own research, had gone the extra mile before approaching Cloud like this. Why had he done it? Why was he  _here_ , talking to Cloud and Reno in the middle of class, when Cloud couldn't for the life of him ever remember Zack attending  _any_  of his cadet classes?

_What the FUCK is going on?_

This was uncharted waters – Cloud had no memories to go on, no experience to back him. He didn't like it - it was making him nervous,  _Zack_  was making him nervous, and he knew himself well enough to know that when he was anxious he tended to do some very stupid things. Like blurt out secrets he shouldn't even know to begin with.

Zack had started speaking again, and Cloud struggled to focus on what he was saying.

"…are definitely improving. You need to work on your strength and stamina, but I can't fault your techniques or reflexes."

Had Cloud been a true fifteen year old, he would have flushed with pride and probably fainted from the attention. But he was older - a man who had been through hell and back, whose skills were a result of suffering and honed for the sake of survival and world peace - so he simply nodded, offering a quiet "thank you, sir" while still keeping his eyes trained on Zack's. The SOLDIER hadn't dropped his gaze, and seemed to be looking for something, but what it was Cloud didn't know. Then Jeffries came over, and Cloud was forced to turn to the sergeant and salute.

"Well done, Strife, Reno. Go do your stretches and cool down before lunch." The sergeant nodded at the two cadets, and they saluted again before heading off. Reno looked like he really wanted to talk to Cloud about something – probably the fact that a SOLDIER First had watched their match and been impressed – but Cloud was glad that Reno had sense enough to hold his tongue, at least until Zack and Jeffries were out of ear-shot. Some of the other cadets weren't as discrete, and Cloud was bombarded with congratulations and questions before he'd even managed to reach his water-bottle.

Cloud really missed First Tsurugi's silencing powers.

He answered politely, as best he could, then ducked behind Reno to get his stretches done. The red-head was the talker anyway, could always be counted on to give a glib lie or a stinging retort or a snarky insult. Cloud was the taciturn blond who never said much except when giving orders or asking questions, and it suited him just fine. Zack had been the only person to get him to actually  _talk_  about anything non-life-threatening, but there was only one person in world that Cloud really wanted to talk to, and  _he_  wasn't here.

He moved through the cool down, keeping his eyes on Zack and wishing he had his Mako-enhancements so he could hear what the First was murmuring about with Jeffries. Cloud's hearing had always been slightly above average, but even if Zack hadn't been pitching his voice low, the excited gossiping of the cadets around Cloud would have drowned out anything Zack said anyway. From what Cloud could see, whatever it was that Zack was saying was making Jeffries puff out his chest with pride. It was probably something about Reno and Cloud progressing so well in his class – even though their fighting styles had absolutely  _nothing_  in common with the katas that Jeffries taught.

As Cloud was reaching the end of his stretches, Zack nodded at Jeffries, who saluted him, then turned and left the hall. Just before he exited however, the First angled his head slightly, and Cloud was surprised to see that Zack was looking back at him. Then the dark-haired SOLDIER walked out of sight.

_What the hell was THAT about?_

Zack was behaving weirdly. Or perhaps he had always been like this but Cloud hadn't noticed. Thinking back now, it certainly seemed out of character for a SOLDIER First to be so bloody perky and downright  _optimistic_. While most SOLDIERs tended to view themselves as rough, tough MoFos, a lot of them displayed symptoms of PTSD – which wasn't a surprise, considering some of the things they'd had to do as part of their job. Cloud had only found out about these covert, clandestine assignments much later, when Reno had been a bit tipsy and mentioned them in Seventh Heaven just to remind Cloud that he had never actually  _been_  an ex-SOLDIER.

So Zack's cheer had been forced, then? He hadn't been completely honest with Cloud? Or maybe the man was just naturally happy-go-lucky, and didn't let his work get him down. Cloud had always viewed Zack as the perfect guy – handsome, funny, intelligent, friendly, warm, caring, generous, and strong. His long-standing image of Zack certainly didn't mesh with  _this_  Zack, who looked at Cloud thoughtfully and almost clinically, and who popped into cadet training only to speak quietly –  _quietly_  – Zack was  _never_  quiet – with the instructor. Had Cloud really been that obtuse? Had so much really gone over his head?

It was certainly possible. There  _was_  a reason why Cloud was a prime target for bullies. He'd never really paid attention to anything until it was too late and a fist was crashing into his nose.

Somehow it saddened Cloud – not the knowledge that Zack was different, no, but more the fact that he was  _more_  than Cloud had thought him to be, and that Cloud hadn't been doing his friend justice even in his memories, because Cloud had made him out to be a two-dimensional figure at best, and Zack was so much more than that. Zack had his own dreams, his own desires, his own goals and wishes and hopes and thoughts – but whatever Cloud hadn't stolen, he'd ignored or forgotten.

_I'll do better this time, you'll see. I'll be a true friend to you, as you were mine._

Cloud would die before letting Zack sacrifice himself for him – he knew that with a certainty that was rooted in the very core of his being. Once upon a time, he'd been weak, puny, addled with Mako and content to just let his friend take care of him. This time around, Cloud would guard Zack with his life – it was the only way he would ever be able to repay his friend for everything, the only way Cloud would ever truly feel forgiven for Zack's death.

_I miss you, Zack._

##

Sephiroth could smell food. Wutaian. Zack wanted something.

He pretended to be engrossed in his work when the door was almost launched off its hinges for the second time that day and Zack attempted to bounce in while juggling several take-out containers and drinks. Sephiroth refused to acknowledge the First, and he certainly wasn't going to move his work to make space for the bribe.

Not that Zack gave a damn. The dark-haired man simply plunked the food down all over Sephiroth's neatly typed documents, and dragged his usual chair up to the table, opening the cartons carelessly and getting some stir-fried vegetables on a folder marked 'Urgent'.

_Zachary._

Sephiroth just gave a small sigh and set his pen down, reaching out to draw his own container over to himself. It was one of his favorite lunches – seafood in spicy fried rice, with a side order of spinach and beef. Zack  _definitely_  wanted something.

The First was already digging into his own noodles with gusto, and seemed for all the world to have forgotten that he was in the General's office and not a canteen. Sephiroth wanted to smile, but he refused to give Zack the pleasure, so he simply broke apart the cheap wooden chopsticks and took a bite of the beef. It was good, but then again Zack had purposely gone to their usual take-out joint for it. Sephiroth wondered if the proprietors knew that one of their regular patrons was The Great General. He wondered what they'd do if they found out – probably wrap the food up in a stupid pink ribbon and give it to him for free.

They ate in silence for awhile, Sephiroth content to enjoy the break from his bureaucratic duties. He had never been one for administration, even though he liked things organized and always made sure that SOLDIER and the army ran like a well-oiled machine. But nothing had prepared him for the amount of paper-pushing he'd be subject to as General – he'd foolishly hoped that he'd just spend his days fighting or training.

It wasn't as though he had any help from Zack. The First was notoriously lazy when it came to actual  _work_ , and always seemed to have something or other to do whenever Sephiroth held out a stack of files to him. If Zack wasn't causing paperwork, he was running around shirking his duties or trying to drag Sephiroth into some hare-brained scheme designed to give him 'a life'. Not to mention that Zack had been the one to introduce CSI to him, which meant that the dark-haired man now felt that he deserved copious amounts of special privileges which Sephiroth granted sometimes – after a particularly enjoyable episode.

Sephiroth wondered for the thousandth time just  _why_  exactly he put up with the trouble-making wild child.

_Because Angeal took him under his wing._

He pushed that thought away ruthlessly.

He supposed he appreciated the company – Zack could always be counted on to spend time with him whether Sephiroth liked it or not. And Zack was the only person around anymore who didn't treat him with that annoying reverence or poorly concealed lust or often unwarranted fear that everyone else seemed to deem him deserving of. Sephiroth knew he was something of a legend, knew he was the object of many fantasies and some nightmares, and he supposed that meant he was doing his job. He certainly didn't mind being considered good-looking – it helped ensure a steady stream of people in his bed, which meant that he rarely had to sleep alone.

Zack seemed to think he longed for someone to be waiting for him whenever he came home, and Sephiroth couldn't understand what he'd done to give the other man that impression. It wasn't like he was lonely or anything – he was used to being alone, used to standing separate from everyone else even when surrounded by a crowd. He liked it sometimes - but more than that he was accustomed to it - and he wrapped himself in his solitude like a favorite old cloak. It was familiar, it had never failed him, and it was enough.

Zack wanted him to be  _happy_.

The man had taken one too many whacks to the head.

"I spoke to him, a little."

Sephiroth didn't even glance up at Zack, simply taking a sip of his tea.

"I got Jeffries to hold a free-sparring session, just so I could watch the kid. He was teamed up with that red-head Tseng's been eyeing. You should've seen them, Seph." Zack didn't sound like he was eating, so he must be looking at him. Sephiroth refused to acknowledge the First, although he relaxed his shoulders slightly so that Zack would continue.

_Another red-head..?_

"I mean, I wasn't actually surprised with the red-head. He's from the slums, and, well, there  _is_  a reason why the Turks have their eyes on him." Zack had started eating again, apparently content with Sephiroth's subtle gesture. "But you should've seen Cloud, man. He was  _fucking_  awesome!"

At that, Sephiroth looked up, straight into Zack's sea-blue eyes. The First stilled, a chopstick laden with spicy noodles bare inches from his mouth. He seemed surprised with Sephiroth's rather blatant indication of attention, but Sephiroth didn't care. Sure, Zack tended to exaggerate a lot of things, but he would never come to Sephiroth and talk someone up without basis. He raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired man, and waited patiently for him to continue.

Zack was more than happy to oblige.

"It's like he just let himself go, you know? Just let loose, let instincts take over. The Reno kid fights dirty, well  _duh_  he's from the 'hood and all, but so does Cloud, 'cept it's so much more graceful and deadly and  _controlled_ than street-fighting. It's like, I dunno, like he's  _used_  to street-fighting but on a whole other level – like he's had to do it so many times he's actually  _perfected_  it, put some finesse into it and turned it into an art or something. I mean, it wasn't  _completely_  perfect, there were  _some_  kinks, growing body and all that, but it looked like some of the moves were just thought up on the spot, and that's some serious quick thinking." Just  _how_  Zack managed to say all that coherently when he'd stuffed his mouth full of chicken and noodles was beyond Sephiroth. He supposed it had something to do with practice making perfect.

"I'm serious, Seph." Zack was almost done with his food - noodles and side-dishes and all. "I've never seen anyone move like that." And this time the First waited until Sephiroth met his eyes before continuing. "Not even you."

The gauntlet had been thrown.

Zack knew very well that Sephiroth could never resist a good challenge, especially one worded so well and phrased so eloquently.

"I'll come observe when the paperwork's finished." Sephiroth wanted to smirk when Zack perked up and reached for a stack of folders.

_Like taking candy from a baby._

##

Zack wasn't an idiot, even though he tended to act a fool. There was a reason why he'd risen through the ranks so quickly, and it wasn't because Angeal had taken him under his proverbial wing – before he'd sprouted the real one.

 _Stop thinking about him_.

Zack scowled at the paperwork on his desk. It was requisition forms – the  _vilest_  of documentation. But if sucking it up and signing some stupid papers meant that Sephiroth would watch Cloud then it was a good bargain. Zack didn't know why he wanted Sephiroth to see Cloud so much, didn't know why there was this all-consuming feeling in his chest and this scream in the back of his mind that insisted that  _it was meant to be_. He'd been surprised himself when watching Strife and Reno, had applauded without thinking, just because he'd been so impressed with the fight that he'd reacted instinctively. A part of him wanted to join in, to take them on, because the two cadets were skilled and brutal, and Zack loved a good spar. But another part of him had been glad to be on the side-lines watching, because he'd had a ring-side view of something that was at once controlled and primal, a deadly dance of both subtle and not-so-subtle power.

Zack had been telling the truth when he'd said that he'd never seen anyone move like that. Strife was a whole other level of fighter, the kind who had intelligence and experience and  _instincts_  – the kind of warrior for whom blood-shedding was more than second nature; it was a way of life. He was curious, practically bursting at the seams with questions, but he forced himself to be patient, to get to know the kid better first. There had been  _something_  in those baby blues, something that was at once familiar and unknown to Zack, and he wanted desperately to know what it was because he'd been almost over-whelmed by the desire to grab the little blond and hug him and tell him that everything was OK.

Cloud had looked as though he'd wanted Zack to do just that, but it wasn't in the way that most cadets looked at him – Big Bad SOLDIER and all. No, it was more like there was something they'd been through together, something  _Cloud_  had been through that for some reason he believed Zack would understand and commiserate with – and Zack was at a loss as to what. He'd never been to Nibelheim, didn't really know anyone from that backwater mountain town, and he'd never actually  _met_  the kid until today. It was pissing him off, this not knowing, this  _wanting_  to know, but he calmed himself quickly. He was probably just misreading the split-second look on the kid's face. After all, Zack was Brigadier General (he'd had a look at the name-plate on his seldom-used door), so this little cadet was probably looking up to him as a big brother or something. Spiky  _was_  an only child after all, and, given his stature and the way he held himself, had probably always longed for an older sibling to act as his protector or guardian. It certainly made things easier for Zack, who was suited to such nurturing roles. And the blond was pretty diminutive, making Zack's knightly instincts scream at him to take care of the kid. He resolved to do just that. Maybe after awhile, when Spiky had warmed up to him, the blond would trust him enough to tell him what was going on. Zack wanted answers, but more than that he wanted to appease the voice in his head that was shrieking at him to go and wrap his arms around the cadet and hold him close and let him know that he wasn't alone, that he had  _friends_.

Zack always  _had_  been a sucker for the silent types.

It didn't help that the blond was very tough and yet almost fragile. The mysterious co-existence of the two very dissimilar qualities was making Zack want to drag the boy back to his apartment and sit him down for a nice, long chat – one that  _wasn't_  followed by other physical pursuits. The blond was pretty, no doubt about that, but somehow it just felt wrong to think of him that way. He'd seen the bruises on the kid's arms, known they were from the red-head, but instead of dirty thoughts all that came to mind was the desire to march over to the slum kid and threaten him with bodily harm if he ever hurt Cloud in a way that the Nibelheim cadet didn't want him to.

Zack really was too protective sometimes.

He sighed. Cloud Strife was a puzzle, a quandary, a conundrum, a mystery, whatever the hell you wanted to call it. It was another reason why Zack wanted Sephiroth there to observe – a burden shared is halved after all. And Sephiroth, while not as skilled as Zack with the subtleties of relationships, was highly intelligent and had much keener eyes. The General would notice every little thing, would be able to catalogue it and memorize it – and his opinion on the matter would help Zack sort out his confusion. If Sephiroth said that the blond was just looking up to Zack as a cadet did a SOLDIER, then Zack would know that he had definitely been misinterpreting the blond's expression. If Sephiroth said that Cloud was simply finally coming into his own and had not suddenly developed such mad skills, then Zack and the instructors simply needed to work on  _their_ observational skills. It wasn't as simple as that, Zack knew. He doubted that himself and the instructors, experienced as they were, would have missed out on important clues. But Sephiroth could always tell when someone was a natural, could read people quite well, and his opinion on the matter would provide some reassurance to Zack – even though the man himself wasn't perfect, and was definitely quite blind to certain things. But the General never said anything without thinking about it a hundred different ways first, so if the silver-haired man actually decided that Zack was reading too much into the matter, then it was probably true.

Zack  _knew_  he was obsessing when he'd dragged himself out of bed and into the office on time. Remembering the looks on the faces of everyone he'd passed on his way into work was almost enough to make him OK with the stupid form smirking up at him about new gym equipment – which stupid  _wanker_  was it who'd decided that free-weights made excellent Frisbees?

Wait, hang on, he distinctly remembered yelling at Kunsel to go long.

 _Oh_.

It was a good thing that Zack was the one signing the request form and not Sephiroth then. He'd probably get beaten pretty badly in their next training session. He tended to avoid those, even though he enjoyed being pushed to his limits – but Sephiroth was too fast and too strong, even for Zack, and he really didn't enjoy being flung to the ground and into the wall like a rag-doll. The man tended to come at Zack with everything he had, and a part of Zack felt very proud that the General obviously considered him good enough to take whatever he could dish out. Another part of Zack wondered if it was just the man's sadistic streak that made him beat lowly Firsts to a pulp for shits and giggles In The Name of Training.

Even Angeal had had to gang up with Genesis to take on Sephiroth.

_STOP fucking THINKING about him, idiot._

He needed a distraction - he wasn't going to be able to get anything done like this. Zack knew enough about work to know that you had to take regular breaks to focus better – if there was one thing he liked about having to do his duties, it was the constant breaks that were absolutely necessary to prevent sub-par performance.

His mind made up, he chucked his Pink Panther pen into the obnoxious Garfield mug-cum-stationery-holder on his desk, and practically pranced out of his office.

He wondered where Spiky was.

##

Aeris had never looked into the memory of Zack's death. She had never been strong enough,  _would_  never be strong enough for that. She knew that Cloud could remember – sometimes more vividly than a supernova, sometimes just vague flashes - mostly emotions - and the only thing that always stood out clear as day in his head were Zack's last words and the final image of Zack lying there bruised and broken and bleeding – in a word: dead.

She had never asked Zack about it, but she knew he had his demons too – she knew that there was something in Zack that regretted what had happened on the cliff – not because he'd wanted Cloud dead instead of him, no, Zack cared too much about the younger man – but she had a feeling it had something to do with Zack telling Cloud that he was his living legacy while holding Cloud's face to the blood on his torso.

Had Zack been aware of the mutation that would manifest? Had Zack known, been expecting, that a part of Cloud would become Zack?

Had Zack wanted Cloud to forever carry him in his blood and soul?

She didn't dare to ask. She shouldn't even have picked up on that – but the Lifestream tended to amplify thoughts and meld emotions from soul to soul, and that one feeling - that one memory - had weighed on Zack for a long time while watching his friend. Aeris knew that Tifa always tried to get Cloud to talk in the hopes that it might help ease his pain – a burden shared is halved after all – but she didn't want to know this. She didn't know if she could accept the answer Zack would give her, even though she knew she wouldn't blame him. He had only wanted Cloud to live, to be strong, and maybe, just maybe, to see her and give her another shot at happiness.

That didn't mean he didn't regret smearing his blood on Cloud's face so soon after the escape from the lab.

She shouldn't have picked up on it. It was something that was gnawing at her, eating at her slowly from the inside. And now there was no chance of ever getting an answer anyway, because Zack was alive here. Yet Aeris couldn't shake the feeling that Zack had done something terribly wrong up on that cliff – even if his motivations were pure and good.

 _What's done is done_.

That was all in the future's past – NOW was different, and Cloud would never let what had happened happen again.

Aeris would just have to forget she ever realized that Zack had felt guilty for Cloud's muddled memories and lost self.

##

"I've seen him around, that SOLDIER."

Cloud's head snapped up and he stared at Reno. They were at lunch, and, as usual, surrounded by other cadets from their bunker, but Cloud was glad that Reno had finally broached the subject.

He wanted to hear about Zack, he wanted someone to share this joy, this  _pain_ , with. Reno wouldn't understand completely, no, but at least the red-head was someone to talk to about the SOLDIER –  _now_  at least Cloud had a reason to mention the First's name without sounding suspicious.

Reno held his eyes for a second longer than was necessary, and Cloud wondered if he'd let something slip in his expression.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"He's the General's Right-Hand Man, since some cats called Angeal and Genesis went AWOL or something." Reno was focusing on his food now, and Cloud was very glad for that. He didn't remember anyone called Angeal or Genesis, but at the mention of their names a sudden vivid image of a tall, well-built man with a Buster Sword on his back walking away from him had assaulted him then run away before he could make any sense of it.

Cloud frowned a little. Had he met them before? Or was it the Zack part of him that had reacted to the mention of their names?

Reno was looking at him again, and Cloud quickly schooled his expression into one of mild interest.

"Heard he's a total nice guy, you know? A real guy's guy. Supposedly only the General can beat him in a fight." Alright, Reno was  _definitely_  acting hinky. He was watching Cloud a bit too closely, but Cloud couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was that the other cadet wanted.

Not for the first time he wondered if Reno was from the future too.

"I heard he's got a HUGE sword." Brian jumped in, eager as always to talk about SOLDIERs, and seemingly proud that he had actually stood next to a First Class - never mind that said First Class probably hadn't even noticed him.

Jared snorted. "I'm sure he does, Brian."

Cloud wanted to grin when Tranton looked a bit confused for a second, before realization of what he'd said set in and he flushed slightly, turning to glare at Jared for always having sex on the brain.

_Boys._

Reno just rolled his eyes.

"What I MEAN is, he's got this massive, like, I dunno, 300lbs sword or something – I heard it's called a Buster Sword." Brian was  _huffing_ , and Cloud wanted to snicker. It was all rather amusing, and he felt a little sad that he'd missed out on this the first time around. No matter, he was here now.

Jared raised his eyebrows, and probably would have jumped in with another lewd comment, but Ray beat him to it.

"Heard he got it from his mentor – that Angeal guy. It's passed down from SOLDIER to SOLDIER or something like that." Ray was lisping a little, his split lip was giving him some trouble but none of the cadets were allowed to go to the infirmary to get their injuries seen to – it was a character building thing.

Cloud knew very well that the Buster Sword wasn't passed down from SOLDIER to SOLDIER. HE'D certainly never been a SOLDIER – Zack had shoved the deadly masterpiece into his hands simply because he'd been the only other person around. It wasn't like Cloud would've even known how to use it had he not stolen Zack's memories.

Cloud had never felt worthy of such a legacy, and he was very glad that Zack was alive here. The blond never wanted to be given the Buster Sword again – not even if it meant that Zack trusted him enough to bear the burden of his honor.

He was depressing himself again, and he pulled himself back to the present with some effort, focusing on the gossip going on at his table.

"I wonder why he was at our training." Brian mused thoughtfully. Cloud wondered if he should mention that some of Brian's food was sliding off the end of his fork and onto the brown-haired boy's hand.

"I've seen him watching us before." Reno mentioned off-handedly, but Cloud could tell it was deliberate. The red-head almost appeared to be  _baiting_  him, and Cloud suddenly realized why. He was waiting for Cloud to let something slip about knowing Zack, because Reno probably figured that Cloud's jump in skill had something to do with the dark-haired SOLDIER.

 _I don't do favors_ ,  _Turk_.

Cloud was suddenly very glad for the others around them. Brian jumped in at that revelation with all the enthusiasm and animation of a kid in a candy shop.

"REALLY?! You mean he's actually been observing us for awhile?! Oh my God that's awesome! Are we like the only cadets he's been checking out? Have any of the other bunkers had him in their classes?! Why didn't you say anything before?!"

Reno winced at the volume and probably would have delivered a scathing retort had Jared not jumped in with another perverted one-liner.

"I doubt we're the only ones he's  _checking out_."

Brian's mouth worked soundlessly, making him look like a goldfish trying to gobble up the bits of bread floating around its fat little tank.

Reno started speaking again quickly. "He's only started watching us recently. Only reason I noticed is coz of his hair. Seen him hiding out nearby whenever we have classes."

Brian looked like he was going to shriek with joy again, but Ray had had enough, clapping a hand over the excitable boy's mouth. It seemed the brunette didn't like screamers.

_Pervert._

Cloud had been spending too much time with Reno.

"HOW recently?" Ralph hadn't said anything before this, content to just stuff his face. The rather livid bruise stretching from his forehead down across a high cheekbone was awfully reminiscent of the marks on the faces of men who were foolish enough to grope Tifa's…assets.

Reno looked at Cloud. "Last week."

_Oh._

Cloud didn't know if he wanted to jump for joy or kick himself. He'd attracted Zack's attention with his little Matt-stunt – but he didn't know if it was a good thing. On the one hand it meant that Zack was paying attention to him, would maybe even respect him as someone who could take care of himself; but on the other hand it WAS rather suspect - wimpy little nobody turned kick-ass street-fighter. And Cloud knew Zack well enough to know that the black-haired man was smart – the First would definitely know that something was up, something was different, and when Zack got something in his head he was  _unstoppable_.

So Zack really  _was_  up to something;  _wanted_  something from Cloud. The First was trying to figure out where this sudden jump in skill had come from.

His chest hurt. Zack was supposed to be his  _friend_ , the person who would eventually sacrifice his life for Cloud. But here Zack had only come up to him because he was curious, suspicious. It was too much, and Cloud wanted to cry. He was suddenly very thankful for his inability to tear. It wouldn't do to start bawling in the middle of the mess hall for no obvious reason.

_Did you really think he came over for the pleasure of your company? Fucking idiot._

Cloud looked down at his food, swallowing the lump in his throat and wishing he'd never been sent back in time. He had always told himself that Zack was his one true friend, the one man who had always cared unconditionally for Cloud, the brave SOLDIER who had rescued Cloud time and time again, watched over him, protected him. Zack was Cloud's guardian angel, the one person Cloud had always trusted to look out for him. And here it seemed that all Zack wanted was information, not friendship. Cloud really wished he'd just let Matt beat him up. Then maybe Zack would have come to see him in the infirmary and they could have started their tough-SOLDIER-guardian-to-wimpy-nobody relationship.

_Oh, grow up._

So what if Zack was suspicious? So what if all that Zack wanted right now was just information? Cloud knew Zack well, better than he knew himself sometimes. Zack could never resist being nice to people, didn't have a mean bone in his body. Zack might start out seeking facts, but it would inevitably lead to some sort of relationship – Zack was too damned  _nice_  not to like Cloud. This change in events was just a different stepping stone to the path of friendship, that's all. Cloud was mature now, a  _man_  – he might never be Zack's equal, but he would at least not let Zack down ever again. They might not be able to talk about much else besides their hometowns, but Cloud would welcome any chance to bask in Zack's warmth and attention.

A part of Cloud had always longed for Zack to be his mentor in the Art of War. Maybe, just maybe, he could have that opportunity now – never mind that he already knew all of Zack's moves.

_Don't get your hopes up._

It was hard not to. The bubble of joy, the sheer happiness and  _hope_  that had come from being so near Zack, from seeing that familiar smile directed at him again, was buoying - making Cloud feel like he was floating on a nimbus of possibilities and dreams.

Things could be  _different_  here. It suddenly really sank in; hit Cloud like one of Tifa's punches to the gut. There was a chance at happiness, at  _true_  friendship. It was more than he'd had before – when it had been mostly pity and kindness on Zack's part. Now, Cloud could actually  _connect_  with Zack, and they could have a friendship that wasn't based on running and hiding and dragging each other to safety. They wouldn't be two country-bumpkins in the Big City – they could be two men who shared their dreams with each other.

_Thank you._

Cloud had never felt so relieved in his life. He would have to watch himself – couldn't let anything slip – but he had never felt so light; for once his heart wasn't being pulled down by the hands of guilt clawing away at it. He had a chance to start over; it was a clean slate; it was the blessed, blessed new beginning he had always longed for. God bless Aeris.

_Just don't screw up._

Cloud didn't think he could live through everything one more time.

##

Tuesday morning saw Cloud in the bathroom making good on his resolution. He wasn't shaking so much anymore - although he was still sweating like a pig before he was even half-way through his chin-ups - but he was making progress, he already  _felt_  stronger, and he could tell from the way Reno had been wincing that he was starting to (very slowly) develop some pretty serious muscle.

It was enough to make Cloud want to do the boogie while heading out to the track.

He needed to get his hands on a stopwatch of some sort. Cloud could tell he was gradually improving his stamina, but he wanted to clock his time as well – he'd been well-known for being faster than a lightning bolt, and it had been one of the things he was proudest of – never mind that he'd been genetically-enhanced. He made a mental note to pick up some sort of watch this weekend, or at least break into the instructors' lounge and help himself to one of their time-pieces.

Reno was as sleepy as ever at breakfast, and Cloud was as amused as he was every morning. It wasn't  _that_  hard getting by on so little sleep – but boys would be boys. Cloud himself had been one of the hardest hit by the zero-six-thirty wake-up cry, had always enjoyed that sublime warmth under the covers that could only come from knowing you absolutely  _had_  to get your arse out of bed ASAP. They ate in relative silence, broken only by Jared's incessant yawning, which kept infecting Brian and Ralph and making  _them_  yawn non-stop, which would lead to Jared yawning some more, and so on and so forth. Had Cloud been a different man he'd have burst out laughing.

_Boys._

They shuffled out to PT, Gunny Payne screeching at them as lovingly as he did every morning. The running didn't affect Cloud so much anymore, not even with his private training every morning, and he was glad that youth helped ease the effects of exertion. As an older man, he probably wouldn't have been able to adjust this quickly to so much exercise, Mako-enhancements aside. It seemed Reno was doing his best to keep up with Cloud, and the blond was amused and a little glad. It felt nice knowing that he was sort of inspiring others to improve themselves, even if they only worked at it because they wanted to be able to wipe the floor with him. But at least this time he and Reno weren't on opposite sides of the law, so he wouldn't have to worry too much about the red-head's rather sneaky skills.

_Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer._

Cloud was turning into quite the little hermit in a mountain cave.

He upped his pace, just to annoy Reno, and almost smirked when the red-head instantly increased his speed too – although Reno looked like he was about to pass-out pretty soon from this prolonged 'brisk jogging'. The Gunny had had a slightly sadistic look on his choleric mug when they'd arrived, and they all knew what it meant – more time running round and round the ugly old track than usual.

When they finally tottered off the field and headed to sword-training, Reno's face had gone from purple to deathly pale, and Cloud wondered if he should run before the barf-fest started. He knew better than to ask if the red-head was OK – Reno would just bite his head off. Brian and two other cadets had already regurgitated their breakfasts (and probably last night's dinners) out on the track, and the rest of them had had to endure the stench of it while moving through their drills. It hadn't been pretty.

_Eau de cadet._

Cloud was one of the shortest of the group, so he couldn't tell why the cadets in front of him suddenly stopped and tensed – Jared actually clapped a hand over his mouth and scuttled off towards the nearest bathroom. Cloud frowned, confused, until a laughing voice broke the general stupor.

"I'm not  _that_  bad-looking, am I? Never had anyone throw up on seeing me before."

Zack was here.

Suddenly Cloud wanted to throw up too.

The instructors started yelling at the cadets to get their asses inside and pick up their swords – it was free-sparring day. There was a collective whimper from the recruits – no one wanted to look like an idiot in front of Brigadier General Zack Fair. Cloud himself tensed up, and his mind kicked into overdrive. It was too much to be a coincidence, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Reno working it out too.

Yesterday's free-sparring in hand-to-hand had been all Zack's idea.

_Sneaky bastard._

So it seemed that Zack  _really_  wanted answers. Cloud was glad he wasn't strong or fast enough to have pulled some of his regular moves yesterday – it would have definitely put himself on Zack's radar.

Reno turned to look at him, and Cloud was glad he'd never allowed himself to be very expressive. He kept his face carefully blank, trudging in behind the others and picking up his practice sword from the racks at the other end of the hall. He passed Zack on the way, and he didn't miss how the SOLDIER kept glowing blue eyes on him. Cloud pretended not to notice, but he knew Reno had. He was seized with a sudden over-whelming desire to just bonk Reno on the head as hard as he could.

_Oh, grow up._

Reno insisted on being partnered with Cloud again, and it was only because Jared was in the bathroom, Ray's split lip was making him lisp like a retarded monkey, Ralph didn't want his pretty face getting more love-bites, and Brian was still reeling from the effects of throwing up and seeing Mr SOLDIER again that the red-head won. Cloud didn't even bother putting in his two gil – Reno was a stubborn bastard.

They got into their lines - Jared making it back in time to snag a sword and slink into a spot near the end of the hall - then the whistle blew and all hell broke loose.

It was a Party.

Cloud would probably have doubled over laughing if Reno hadn't launched into a flurry of attacks. As it was, he parried and blocked with ease, keeping his eyes trained on Reno while remaining aware of whatever was going on around him. It wouldn't do to trip over another cadet after all – might lead to a gang-fight or something.

Reno was pretty good with the practice sword, if only because it was basically a metal pole that he wielded as he would the Nightstick in future. Cloud could see why Reno had gravitated towards that one particular weapon – Reno was basically a street-fighting brawler, and he preferred bashing his opponents to slashing them. How terribly plebian.

Cloud couldn't see where Zack was, not in his current position, so he took the opportunity to duck a particularly swift strike of Reno's, throwing himself to the ground and rolling away from the red-head before standing up. He had a better view of the chaos this way, and he could see Zack now – standing near the doorway, deep blue eyes focused on  _him_.

_Fuck me SIDEWAYS._

This was SO not good.

Cloud didn't have long to think about how imperative it was that he control himself, not let anything slip, when Reno was charging at him again and he instinctively back-flipped, one foot lashing out in mid-air to catch Reno in the chin. The red-head staggered, and Cloud cursed himself for being such a show-boat.

_Be a loser. For once in your life, it's OK to be a loser._

Except Cloud couldn't force himself to act a fool – not even if his life depended on it. He'd had nothing but his shattered pride to hang on to, especially after he'd sorted out his memories somewhat and realized that he'd never made it to SOLDIER. Then after that it had been only his numerous accomplishments that had made people like him, be nice to him, and Cloud had found some solace in it – in being the greatest living swordsman of all time – never mind that his skills and physical prowess weren't originally his own. He had been adored, worshipped the world over, and he just couldn't bring himself to be beaten and shamed and embarrassed, even though displaying his skills right now might blow his already shaky 'cover' to hell.

Then Reno swung at him again, and Cloud just let himself go.

He didn't bother to block or parry – his style had always been aggressive (or, more to the point,  _Zack's_  style had always been aggressive) and when under attack he  _always_  counter-attacked – unless he absolutely couldn't take his opponent; in which case he ran for his life. Cloud launched into his own sequence of attacks, and even though the practice sword wasn't what he was used to, even though this current body was smaller and weaker and skinnier than what he was used to, he knew he was kicking serious ass. It was all Reno could do to dodge the swift strikes coming at him from every angle, and dimly Cloud was aware that if he was just a bit faster, if Reno was just a bit slower, the red-head would probably need a trip to the infirmary. Cloud persevered, upping the pace because his body was tiring already and he really needed to take Reno out before he could get a rest; he doubted he would last for much longer.

A pair of cadets next to them suddenly stumbled into the path of a blow, and Cloud jerked back at the last second, scowling. Then suddenly Reno was there and the red-head's practice sword was slicing through the air towards Cloud's throat, and Cloud spun around quickly, leveling the tip of his own pseudo-sword at the nape of Reno's sweaty neck.

Reno hesitated for just a second before yielding.

They were both too tired to continue anyway.

Around them the melee was escalating, the cadets obviously forgetting that just because they were using practice weapons that didn't even remotely resemble swords, it didn't mean that they could continue fighting on despite taking so many 'death-blows'. It really was a Party, and Cloud was more than a little amused by it all. It reminded him of Saturday morning cartoons and their animated violence – all fists and sticks and feet rolling round and round while curses colored the air.

Then Zack was making his way through the fray towards him, and Cloud's breakfast decided to remind him that while it had tasted disgusting going down, it tasted much worse inching back up.

Zack had somehow snagged a practice sword along the way, plucking it out of some hapless cadet's hand as though he was a deity floating along in a parade in his honor. His deep blue eyes never left Cloud's, but the SOLDIER easily side-stepped every bumbling cadet that littered his way. Then suddenly he was  _right there_ , and the easy smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he looked at Cloud.

"Guard, Spiky."

It was only habit that made Cloud raise his sword. Reno had stepped away, near enough to hear everything, but far enough away that he wouldn't get hit by a stray blow. Then Zack attacked.

_Oh FUCK._

Cloud had barely enough time and presence of mind to dodge the first strike, when he had to throw himself to the ground and roll away because somehow the stupid piece of metal in Zack's hands had morphed into a Very Real Weapon. It was enough to make Cloud's instincts scream, racing through him with more force and brutality than it had last week when he'd fought Matt, and Cloud just reacted.

He blocked and parried blow after blow, barely aware that his arm was on  _fire_ , his lungs needed  _air_ , his legs needed  _rest_ , he wasn't going to win so he might as well roll over and  _play dead_. Cloud didn't heed the rational part of his mind that was shrieking at him to tone it down, to not show off, to reveal nothing – all he knew was the here, the now, Zack's blue eyes focused so completely on his, face set in that familiar mask of concentration and determination, the ring of metal on metal as the two of them fought – SOLDIER First Class to Future World Savior. It was Wonderful, it was Terrifying, but most of all It Was Beautiful.

He would tell himself later that he hadn't really pulled anything fancy anyway – had mostly just defended himself – so he hadn't done anything  _too_  dodgy.

There was a shrill clang as their swords met – Cloud's in an almost horizontal guard across his face, Zack's perpendicular and bearing down on the blond. The SOLDIER was putting some of his weight on the sword, and Cloud's arm was sobbing in pain but he ignored it, high on the rush of adrenaline that surged through him and made him oblivious to everything else but the need to  _survive_ , the need to  _triumph_ , the need to  _crush, kill, and destroy_.

_The blade isn't the only part of the sword._

Cloud brought his left hand up, pressing it against one end of his weapon, then he twisted himself to the side, using Zack's sword as a pivot and almost slamming the 'hilt' of his metal pole into the First's left temple. Zack jerked back in time, and even as he dodged this first blow of Cloud's, his own sword was already speeding towards Cloud's ribs.

Cloud just back-flipped again.

Zack kept advancing, his never-ending strikes raining down on Cloud like a hail-storm of metal, and the blond kept retreating, dimly aware that he shouldn't be able to keep moving backwards like this, he should have tripped over some other cadet by now, he should be reaching the edge of the mat soon if he didn't stop moving backwards and away from the brutal blows of the First Class SOLDIER.

Then Zack feinted left, and Cloud knew what was coming, but his body just couldn't move anymore, wouldn't listen to him because he hadn't been listening to it – it needed  _rest_ , dammit – and Zack slammed his practice sword hard into Cloud's side, the blond crumpling to the ground like Cait Sith had when the cat had gotten accidentally smacked in its furry face by First Tsurugi.

_That HURT._

Cloud wasn't aware of much – his body had locked up, breathing was  _torture_ , and he was in  _agony_. A part of him was screaming to get up, get up  _quick_ , before they come back and finish you off; but another part of him was yelling to stay down, don't do anything stupid, you're just a  _cadet_  for crying out loud and you were walloped by a First Class and you need to  _rest_  you fucking idiot, your body can't take any more.

Then a hand was on his shoulder and he was being rolled onto his back, and suddenly his vision was filled with Zack. The SOLDIER looked freaked out, but Cloud couldn't make out what he was saying – his ears were filled with a high-pitched buzzing, his eyes were unfocussed so lip-reading was out of the question, and he just felt like he would have passed out if he hadn't been clinging so desperately to consciousness.

_I don't feel too good._

Some words were starting to seep into the foggy mess that was his mind, and he struggled to focus on them, as if the simple act of listening to that familiar voice would help make the pain go away.

"…breathe. Just take deep breaths, it's OK. C'mon just breathe with me, Spiky. There you go."

Zack sounded like he was going to throw up, but Cloud didn't have the strength to move away.

It seemed Zack noticed that Cloud had finally regained his senses, because the SOLDIER appeared a little relieved before instantly looking contrite and launching into an apology.

"I'm SO sorry, Spiky! I shouldn't have hit you so hard! You'd better get it checked out at the infirmary – wouldn't want you running around with a cracked rib or whatever it is I gave you. I'm SO, SO, SO sorry! I pushed you WAY too hard and that was totally wrong of me! I should've controlled myself – you're just a  _kid_ and I came at you pretty hard and I'm SO sorry! Please, please tell me you're OK!"

Cloud would have appeased him, if only to get Zack to stop shrieking in his face, but the kid comment had stung and he mutinously refused to give Zack any comfort.

_Oh, grow up._

He managed to rasp out a shaky "I'm fine, Zack" before mentally kicking himself for using the SOLDIER's first name. It was far too casual, it belied a closer bond than they currently had, but Cloud was tired and in pain so his usual control had slipped far below what it normally was. He wasn't too fussed about knowing Zack's first name – heck, it would be  _wrong_  if he didn't – the man was Brigadier General after all, and Cloud was playing up the part of star-struck little cadet.

Zack looked like he wanted to cry.

"Oh, THANK GOD! I'm really, really sorry Spiky. I shouldn't have done that. It was totally my fault, won't happen again."

If Cloud hadn't been so bloody exhausted, he would have told Zack that he didn't mind if it happened again, as long as it meant that he could have Zack's undivided attention. He'd missed this – it was just like old times, he thought blurrily: him getting hurt, and Zack freaking out.

_Ah, the good old days._

Suddenly the ground moved, and Zack's eyes were a lot closer than they'd been before. Cloud was being hoisted up by the SOLDIER, and it was  _bridal-style_.

_Fuck me._

Pride was a wonderful thing to have sometimes. It stung Cloud into action, and he struggled ineffectually at the strong arms holding him. He had his self-respect - he was a  _man_ , dammit, not some stupid woman! – but Zack just shushed him and proceeded to run to the infirmary faster than Yuffie towards Materia.

_Talk about adding insult to injury._

##

Reno hadn't been too surprised that Cloud lost. The blond  _had_  been fighting a First Class SOLDIER after all. But he  _had_  been shocked at how good the other cadet was.

He'd been in the presence of true predators.

The First Class had reminded Reno of a wolf – all sharp focus and dangerous gleam and liquid movement. Zack Fair was the quintessential wolf in sheep's clothing – all fluffy smiles and easy charm one minute, vicious strength the next - and Reno knew without a doubt just why the dark-haired man was so damned good at his job.

But looking at Cloud had brought to mind those wild felines that roamed the savannahs – Reno had heard stories of their deadly grace and sinuous menace, their brutal power cloaked in subtle actions and smooth motions; and if the blond had been a bit bigger, a bit better built, Reno would have bet good money on Cloud winning the impromptu match. Never mind that all the blond had been doing was defend himself – he WAS fighting a First Class after all – but he'd appeared in control, his actions completely fluid, unhurried, not at all panicked or frantic. There was no doubt about it: Cloud Strife was  _very_  good with a sword. And Reno would find out where this sudden affinity for the blade came from if it was the last thing he did.

When the SOLDIER had picked Cloud up bodily and high-tailed it out of the training area, Reno had wanted to laugh at the expression on the blond's face. But Reno's very strong sense of self-preservation led him to control his snickers until the insulted and injured cadet was out of the hall – wouldn't do for Cloud to get his revenge during their next training session after all. The Nibel-brat had recently become very deadly in a fight, and Reno had never had a death wish.

 _Unlike some people_.

Who the hell ran around getting into sword-fights with Bad Ass SOLDIER Firsts anyway? Never mind that the Brigadier General had initiated it and Cloud could have been thrown out or court-martialed for refusing – Spiky should've just thrown in the towel earlier. But a part of Reno bore a grudging respect for the blond – it was obvious the kid had his pride, wouldn't give up without a fight, and it was very fucking brave of him – albeit very fucking stupid.

 _Discretion is the better part of valor_.

It was official: Cloud Strife could never be a Turk. The kid was made for SOLDIER – all "oo-rah"s and charging into battle and Never Giving Up. Reno hoped he would never have to be on the opposite side of a fight from Cloud – especially if the blond happened to have some sort of blade in his hands.

Cloud Strife was obviously a bad, bad man when he had something sharp in his hands.

The instructors were shrieking at them to put their swords away and cool down before lunch, but the cadets took more time than usual – too busy exclaiming over how awesome Cloud was, how awesome the SOLDIER was, and how  _totally awesome_  it was to have had a SOLDIER First in their classes two days in a row.

_What the hell is this? TMNT? Enough with the awesomes!_

Reno rolled his eyes; picking up the swords Cloud and the SOLDIER had dropped and heading to the weapons rack. Brian was bouncing up and down, proclaiming at the top of his lungs how cool Cloud was and what an honor it was to have had the Brigadier General in their class  _for the second day in a row_ , and Ray was being restrained by Jared. It was probably a good thing too – the brunette looked like Brian's voice was making his head hurt and making him want to inflict some serious  _pain_  on the excited Kalm boy.

Reno could hear the instructors talking among themselves, and it seemed he was the only cadet with sense enough to listen and not yell. He managed to pick up some phrases – mostly incredulity and awe at Strife's performance – but it also seemed that they had been asked to keep a close eye on the blond and re-assess everything they knew about him. Reno didn't have to wonder why.

It seemed Cloud's actions were already having a ripple effect.

Reno would have picked up on more had Ralph not accosted him at the weapons rack.

"You think Strife's OK?"

Reno raised an eyebrow. Since when did Ralph give a damn about Cloud?

_Since he morphed into Batman, duh._

He shrugged. "He'll be fine. That SOLDIER cat'll make sure he gets to the infirmary all right, and the doctors will use Materia on him. If not, then he'll have to leave the program, simple as that."

Ralph nodded, looking at Reno as though he'd expected more concern for the obvious fuck-buddy of the red-head's. Reno bristled a bit at that – since when had he come across as the sappy Hallmark type anyway? - then his ears were assaulted by Brian, and Reno really wished Jared would just let Ray rip.

"Of COURSE Cloud will be OK! He's like the BEST cadet EVER! Don't be so mean, Reno!"

If only cadets were allowed to desensitize themselves to killing before they made SOLDIER or Turks.

Reno turned to the brown-haired boy, biting insult ready on his lips, but he was beaten to it by Ray, who had finally been released by Jared.

"Tranton! SHUT the FUCK up, you RETARD!"

Well, it didn't look like Ray's split lip was giving him anymore trouble.

Brian instantly stilled, shock and a little hurt written clearly on his childish face. Had Reno been a different person, he would have felt a little sorry for the kid. But he was a hood rat, a street kid, someone who only cared about Number One and No One Else, so he just smirked nastily at Brian and gave Ray a light slap on the bicep as he passed him, heading towards his water-bottle.

He'd have to bring Spiky's with him when he left. Wouldn't do for the blond's things to get humped by Tranton, no sir, not at all.

##

Zack was fluttering. There was no other word for it. While the doctor examined Cloud, the dark-haired SOLDIER vibrated all over the room, hands flapping in the air and words tumbling out of his lips in no reasonable order.

Cloud would have laughed if his ribs hadn't been killing him. He was pretty sure Zack was just doing this to cheer him up anyway – the lean, mean, killing machine replaced by wigged-out cheerleader? Come  _on_.

At length Dr House stepped back, announcing that Cloud was simply suffering from a hairline fracture and a simple Cure2 spell coupled with some good rest would have him good as new by the morrow.

Zack fluttered some more.

It seemed the good doctor was used to this, simply reaching into his coat pocket – Cloud couldn't help jerking backwards, expecting the grey-haired man to withdraw a syringe filled with green liquid – but it was simply the familiar little orb in his hand. The spell was calming, soothing, and then it was over and Cloud could breathe easy.

Zack launched himself at the blond.

"I'm seriously SO sorry, Cloud! I didn't mean to hit you so hard! I just…I guess I kinda got caught up in the fight and I forgot you weren't SOLDIER. I mean, you kick serious ass, you know? I'm really sorry for hurting you." Zack's puppy-dog look nearly broke Cloud's heart – if only because it had been too long since he'd last seen it, and because he couldn't bear the thought of Zack,  _Zack_ , thinking that he'd hurt Cloud somehow. Zack was too wonderful to ever do that.

Zack had thought he'd been SOLDIER level? It made Cloud's heart swell with pride, and then instantly contract with fear. Stupid, stupid,  _stupid_  of him not to hold back, not to play the useless, inexperienced cadet – might as well just run around Shinra stark-naked with a Styrofoam crown on his head yowling about Armageddon and Jenova and Insane Sephiroth.

He managed to warble out another "I'm fine, Zack" and nearly cried when the dark-haired man beamed at him. It was too much, being this close to Zack, being held by Zack, having Zack freaking out and worrying about him just like he had up until he'd died…Cloud couldn't take it, needed to get away before he actually  _did_  start bawling.

He made to move off the bed, but Zack's hold tightened and Cloud nearly squawked in surprise.

_What the hell..?_

He looked at Zack questioningly.

"You heard the man – you need rest! So just lie back, I'll go rustle up some grub, and you can head back to your bunk and take the rest of the day off. I'll clear it with your instructors." The First was attempting to appear stern, but he just looked like a Big Momma.

Cloud shook his head. "I'm  _fine_ , Zack. Really. I don't need to skip classes to get some rest – it's all just theory anyway. I'll be OK, honest."

Zack still looked unconvinced, but Cloud knew just what to do to get his way. It had worked plenty in the past against the First Class, and it worked plenty after that when Cloud had needed to use his wiles to get what he wanted.

He widened his eyes, pressed his lips together slightly to prevent himself from grinning, and looked at Zack with complete innocence and sincerity written all over his face.

Zack crumbled like a house of cards.

_Score._

"Well…alright, Spiky. If you're sure." Zack looked like he knew he was being played but was unable to resist anyway. Cloud couldn't help the little smile that escaped him, but he managed to temper it into one of gratitude instead of smugness. He pushed himself off the bed as Zack released him and stood back, then laid a hand briefly on the SOLDIER's bicep. It felt as strong as it had all those years ago - solid and powerful and  _real_.

"Thank you, sir." Cloud offered softly. He didn't want to refer to Zack by anything other than his first name, but it would be too presumptuous, and his earlier informality could at least be chalked up to pain.

"Call me Zack, Spiky." Zack grinned at him, and a younger Cloud would have felt slightly annoyed with the nickname, but this older Cloud wanted to jump for joy at the beautiful familiarity of it all. He nodded at the Brigadier General, then a question escaped him before he could stop himself.

"How do you know my name, si-Zack?" Cloud wanted to kick himself. Where the hell did he get off questioning superior officers about stuff like that? And wasn't it a good thing that Zack knew his name anyway?

Zack didn't seem to mind. "Got it off Jeffries, Cloudy."

_Last week or yesterday?_

Cloud didn't bother voicing  _that_  question. Zack was remarkably adept at half-truths – the man could be notoriously sneaky when he wanted to be, probably from dealing with Sephiroth and Shinra for so many years.

_Sephiroth._

Cloud really needed to get away from Zack. The dark-haired man was bringing back too many memories, bringing forth too many dreams and hopes and thoughts, and it was going to be very detrimental to Cloud's sanity and control if he lingered any longer, no matter how much he wanted to draw out this moment and make it last forever.

He nodded, offering another quiet "thank you" to Zack before giving him a half-smile and a sloppy salute. Then he turned and fled – brisk walking out of the infirmary, and breaking out into a jog the minute he turned a corner. He knew he should head to the mess hall, get some food in his stomach before he filled theory classes with the orchestra of hunger, but he didn't know if he could keep anything down with the way the butterflies had decided to tango in his belly. He pelted towards the mess hall anyway – just because he didn't want to be alone right now. Some company and ruckus might take his mind off Zack and  _him_.

_Fuck me._

He almost thundered right into the canteen, catching himself just before he barreled through the double doors, pausing a moment to collect himself slightly before walking in. Instantly he wished he'd never left the infirmary. The entire hall hushed immediately, all eyes riveted on him, and Cloud really wished that he could just go postal. He ignored them all, grabbing a tray and getting his food – even the  _cooks_  were looking at him funny – then debated just dumping everything and running away. But he'd sworn never to run away again, to always look danger in the eye and  _prove_  that he was Someone Worth Caring For, so he just walked over to his usual spot which, he noted with some surprise, was empty; and it looked like someone had brought his water bottle from class for him. He was quite touched.

He sat down, offering the other boys a nod and wondering when the rest of the mess hall was going to just  _eat their fucking food and stop staring at him_.

Reno broke the silence first. Cloud wanted to kiss him.

"Boo-yah!" The red-head yelled right into Brian's face, and the poor boy shrieked before toppling right off the bench and onto the ground, his plate of Unmentionables teetering dangerously close to the edge of the table. Jared pushed it back into a safer position while practically crying with mirth - Ray and Ralph were leaning against each other trying to breathe through their laughter, and pretty soon everyone else in the hall was joining in. Cloud allowed himself a small smile once he'd caught Reno's eyes –  _thank you_  – then he smiled a little at a very embarrassed but laughing Brian. The brown-eyed boy perked up instantly, and he settled back into his seat after an exaggerated bow to everyone else in the hall.

_Boys, it's a wonderful thing._

Cloud ate quickly after that - partly because there wasn't much time left to the lunch hour, and partly to appear busy so he wouldn't get bombarded with questions. He was questioned anyway, but after reassuring them that he was fine and that all he'd gotten was a hairline fracture that had been healed with Materia, he resorted to just stuffing his face and pretending to be hungry so he wouldn't come across as rude. He was glad he was managing to keep the food down, and glad he'd been brave enough to come to the mess hall. The talk going on around the table was a welcome distraction from his earlier train of thought – and alright, so sue him but the way Brian was being bullied/teased by the others was  _hilarious_. The kid was asking for it anyway, but more than that it almost seemed as though Brian wanted to be joked with like that – as though he knew that someone had to play the fool, the bumbling comic relief, and he was happy to do it if it meant that everyone would just get along. Cloud had met some of those types later in his travels – and instantly he was sorry for ever writing Brian Tranton off as the kind of average, normal kid who came from a happy family. He hadn't been doing him justice, but it seemed that Cloud hadn't been doing anyone justice in his memories. He would do better this time, he knew that. Everything held double weight now, because he'd lost it all before, and he wasn't going to lose anything ever again.

##

The door was almost flung off its hinges as a Mako-enhanced porcupine burst in. Zack halted his path of destruction just before Sephiroth's table.

"So? Whaddya think?"

Sephiroth didn't bother looking up.

"You look very pretty, Zachary."

"I meant  _Cloud_ , idiot."

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow and considered reminding Zack that he could be court-martialed for disrespecting a superior officer. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he'd tried – it was a waste of breath.

Zack was tapping his foot impatiently. Sephiroth considered letting him expend all his energy that way.

The General sighed, setting down his Mont Blanc pen and leaning back in his chair, clasping his hands loosely on the table and looking at Zack calmly. He indicated the abused leather chair and Zack threw himself into it – Sephiroth had considered messing with the bolts and screws so that Zack would fall over next time, but Zack would probably just sit on the floor and start chucking things at him if that happened. The man could always be counted on to do something ridiculous – take his squats for example.

Sephiroth took a moment to ponder his response. Strife had been…a surprise, to say the least. The blond had lost, but not too spectacularly. He'd held his own ground, despite the obvious pain and exhaustion – that spoke to a disposition that, while possibly naturally stubborn, was more one of determination and resilience honed by years of trial and tribulation. It was that more than anything that had impressed Sephiroth, and he wasn't easily impressed – Zack's abilities had barely raised an eyebrow until the Angeal fiasco, and only then did Sephiroth truly understand the depth of the younger man's talents.

"He is obviously skilled, and displays a natural affinity for swordsmanship." Sephiroth said at length, after Zack vibrated enough to put the Energizer Bunny to shame. The dark-haired man instantly stilled, leaning forward eagerly to hear the General's assessment of the little blond. "What he lacks in strength, he makes up for in speed and momentum. His form is remarkable, especially in one so young and developing. He will make a fine SOLDIER."

Zack grinned brilliantly enough to shame the sun. Sephiroth wondered why his subordinate was so invested in the cadet – it didn't seem as though Zack was attracted to the blond; he wasn't displaying his usual symptoms of infatuation or lust. He'd just have to trick the truth out of the other man. Sephiroth needed to keep his skills sharp – all this office work was going to turn him into Tuesti one day.

"Notice anything else?" Sephiroth's brow furrowed slightly. Zack was looking at him carefully, expression deliberately blank, eyes trained on his. What was he expecting? Sephiroth thought about it. He'd been in the observation room above the hall, behind a one-way mirror – his eyes had been trained on Strife since the blond entered the hall looking tense and deliberately ignoring Zack while he went to equip himself. Then the chaos started, but Strife's and his partner's hairstyles were distinctive enough to distinguish them from the brawling punks surrounding them. Sephiroth hadn't liked the look of the red-head for some reason, and he refused to admit that it was because the cadet's hair color reminded him of someone else. No, it was probably the way the slum kid fought – all dirty tricks and liquid sneakiness, not SOLDIER style at all. Sephiroth was quite glad the Turks were eyeing the boy – he didn't doubt the red-head's skills, but the boy wasn't SOLDIER material. He was just too…street.

Strife had been in complete control, and had actually maneuvered himself into a position where he could watch Zack. Sephiroth had wondered if it was because the cadet was simply another fan of the dark-haired SOLDIER, but there was something distinctly odd in the blond's expression – it wasn't awe, wasn't lust, wasn't adoration. For the briefest of moments, there had been a flash of fear in the boy's blue eyes, and that had been so completely out of place that Sephiroth's mind had kicked into overdrive. Zack wasn't a cruel man, despite his apparent callousness towards Sephiroth's bed-warmers. Zack would never hurt anyone intentionally – so why had the little cadet looked so terrified with Zack's attention on him?

The only logical conclusion was that the boy was hiding something. It made sense – the blond's jump in ability was suspicious, and no one had been able to explain it. Perhaps the cadet knew that Zack was investigating the matter – and that was why he was wary of the First. Which could only mean that he believed, for some reason, that Zack had either found something or was getting close to the truth. Sephiroth had gone over everything Zack had told him while waiting for his subordinate to return after seeing to Strife – there had been nothing in Zack's words or tone to indicate that he was any closer to an answer. But it seemed the blond believed that Zack was getting warm – either that or he was just afraid of Zack. While the dark-haired man was the most popular SOLDIER ever to join Shinra, he was also highly respected, and many other SOLDIERs avoided having to spar with Zack, because the man was quite deadly in a fight. But  _why_  should a cadet from Nibelheim be afraid of Zack's prowess when the man wouldn't attack for no reason? There was something amiss, something afoot, and Sephiroth didn't know what it was. He'd thought everything through multiple times, but he'd come no closer to a satisfactory solution than Zack had. It was frustrating, but at the same time it was intriguing – Sephiroth liked puzzles, liked challenges, it was why he kept watching and re-watching CSI after all – and he was determined to solve this case. But first, he needed solid evidence – all that he and Zack had collected so far were theories and observations. Some more in depth investigation was needed, and there was only one way to do it.

Zack was still looking at him, knee bouncing slightly in impatience. Sephiroth stared at him impassively.

"Strife could do with some one-on-one training. He needs to work on his strength, and familiarize himself with his own body – he is fluid enough now, but he is still growing, and some personal time with you might do him good."

Zack blinked, then flashed pearly whites at the silver-haired man.

"You read my mind, Seph!" The man was making the  _chair_  bounce, Sephiroth noted with some amusement. Zack was so energetic he could make everything around him vibrant and full of life. Well,  _almost_  everything – Sephiroth was still holding out.

Then the First hesitated, and Sephiroth raised an eyebrow at him.

"…you didn't notice anything else that was odd about the kid?" Sephiroth recognized that combination of tone and look. Zack wanted advice and reassurance.

 _Far be it from me to deny Angeal's puppy_.

He scowled internally. He wasn't going to think about him. Sephiroth focused his attention on Zack, noting that the younger man was becoming quite immune to his extended stares. The wonders of youth.

"He seemed a little wary of you." Sephiroth supposed he was glad that he could give something positive to Zack, instead of just being the reason that the younger man had lost his mentor and friend. He wasn't the  _only_ reason, he knew, but he had had a long time to think about it, and he still couldn't completely convince himself that there was nothing he could have done to stop it. "He also appeared to be attempting to hide his abilities. I agree that there is something inherently suspicious about the boy. You may continue your observations and investigation." Not that Zack would have stopped even if Sephiroth ordered him to, but it was the principle of the thing.

Zack beamed at him. "Thanks, Seph."

Sephiroth nodded, then turned back to the files in front of him. The cadets had to enter battle simulation at least once a fortnight, and it was only because Zack and Kunsel and some of the other Firsts had somehow wreaked havoc on all three of the cadet training arenas –  _what_  they were doing there when they had their own training rooms was beyond him - that Sephiroth now had to approve the use of one of the more exclusive training grounds. He was trying to decide if the amphibious assault arena would be more advantageous to their training as opposed to the night-time incursion dome. From what he'd seen, most of the boys were still too immature to work as a cohesive unit – but he  _had_  noticed how several cadets seemed to defer to Strife. Perhaps it would be in his best interests to keep a close eye on the cadet after all, Sephiroth realized. The boy was obviously something of a natural leader, and seemed to have earned the respect of the others. His authority would come in handy on training missions, and Sephiroth would have less paperwork to deal with if fewer cadets were injured whilst in training.

It seemed Strife was good for more than providing a challenge after all.

 _Boom_.

##

On Wednesday the cadets entered hand-to-hand class with some apprehension. While they were eager to see the Brigadier General again, they were also aware that they were still only in training and rather woefully inept. If even someone as skilled as Cloud – and they had to admit that he  _was_ skilled – had gotten a beating, what could they hope to do other than provide some comedic relief?

There was no Zack in the hall, and Reno was pretty sure the sighs were a mixture of relief and disappointment. As it was, they weren't having free-sparring. It seemed Jeffries had some new style he wanted to teach them – Keysi Fighting Method. Reno had heard of it – heck, he knew most of the moves by heart, it was wicked useful in the slums – and he was looking forward to topping the class in this. Cloud's reign was over – at least here. Reno didn't doubt that the blond could wallop anyone in sword fighting, but Cloud had never struck him as the type to get really up close and personal. No, the blond was more the 'stay-the-fuck-away-from-me' kinda guy - unless they were actually fucking.

They ran through some light stretching while Jeffries bellowed out the basics to them – it was all terribly boring to Reno, who could have taught this class blindfolded. He amused himself with watching the others, Cloud in particular, and was surprised to note that the blond cadet seemed to have zoned out. Did Cloud already know KFM? It was highly unlikely – the kid was from Nibelheim, the most Boondocky place in all the Planet – and yet, now that he thought about it, it did seem as though Cloud himself was highly trained in close combat. Reno had been slightly impressed with the smaller cadet – Cloud had fought dirty, fast, and furious – just like him. It certainly provided a challenge to Reno here in training; he always ended up dropping his opponents within thirty seconds of a fight because they fought by the book and he most definitely didn't. It seemed Cloud himself had few scruples when it came to winning – and Reno liked that. It had certainly bumped the blond up several notches on his 'Cool Cat' scale.

But prior to the whole Matt-thing, Cloud had always been awful at any type of physical combat. So where had the sudden skill come from? Reno was tempted to chalk it up to the boost in confidence – all the training in the world wouldn't help if you didn't believe you could pull it off successfully – but then where had the confidence come from? Reno hadn't paid much attention to the kid before, and he regretted it a little now – perhaps watching Cloud closely in the past would have helped him sort out this confusion. The red-head admitted he'd made a mistake before, writing Cloud off as a no-talent nobody, and it was very unlike him. Reno was good at reading people, had  _had_  to be, because his keen observation of subtle changes in expression had saved his hide more times than he could remember.

_Nobody's perfect._

Jeffries was rounding up the brief lecture by giving a quick demonstration of the moves they would be running through today - Sergeant Mendez had been borrowed from sword-training because he'd grown up in the KFM capital - and Cloud appeared to be coming back to reality. Reno quickly shifted slightly so that he was closer to the blond – he wanted to be paired with Cloud again, if only because it would help him better observe the kid. Brian looked like he wanted to open his mouth and declare himself Cloud's partner, but Reno just glared at him. Then Jeffries gave a whistle, and the red-head turned to Cloud, only to be beaten to the punch by Ray.

Did the brunette want to lisp for the rest of his life?

Reno huffed irritably, turning and snagging Ralph for a partner. Jared had pretty much latched onto Brian and was dragging him off to the mats – Reno's lips twitched a little at the look of horror on Tranton's face. Jared was remarkably adept at getting under Brian's skin – the blond always seemed to be at his most perverted around the brown-haired boy, if only because Brian was such a prude.

Cloud and Ray were already assuming their ready positions, so Reno quickly claimed the spot next to Ray – he could observe pretty well from this angle. The whistle blew, and they started – Brian clocking Jared hard in the chin because he'd misjudged the angle for his elbow-strike. To the blond's credit, he simply shrugged it off – Jared might have come across as a sex-crazed maniac, but the kid had some serious mojo.

Reno was having a blast – Ralph was still trying to get a feel for the techniques, since KFM involved a lot of quick-thinking and close-quarter combat, completely unlike the mindless katas they had been taught so far – so the red-head allowed his eyes to drift to Cloud and Ray. It seemed they both knew what they were doing, which surprised Reno for two reasons – firstly, Ray was a seriously loaded kid from Junon, the kind that had grown up with a platinum spoon in his mouth, so how the hell had he gotten so good at these street skills?; and secondly, Cloud looked as though he'd been doing these moves his entire life. There was no awkwardness, no hesitation – it was all smooth, easy motions, as though the blond and Ray had done this dance a million times before.

_What the hell?_

Reno's curiosity had reached a peak higher than Mt Nibel.

It wasn't hard to understand why the cadets were being trained in such street-fighting techniques. It was meant to bring their basic katas closer to reality, as well as to teach them to think on their feet. KFM was especially good at this – heck, it  _was_ an intelligent style of combat after all. Reno was glad that Shinra wasn't actually stupid enough to fool themselves into believing that cadets could take on training missions with their dumb by-the-book squabbling techniques. He had been growing bored with classes, bored with training, and it was only the dream of donning that dark suit one day that had kept him in camp. He was especially looking forward to the free-sparring sessions that utilized KFM – it was gonna be a helluva party.

He kept a close eye on Cloud throughout the class, and was very surprised when the blond turned to look at him while staying perfectly in rhythm with Ray. That took some serious skill – to find the flow of the fight and be able to control it while looking elsewhere. Reno was impressed. Cloud was up another notch on the Cool-Cat Scale.

Cloud raised an eyebrow at him, and Reno just smirked back.

_GOD, I'm fly._

"Do the two of you have to eye-fuck all the fucking time?"

Reno and Cloud turned to look at Ralph, who just looked incredibly amused despite also looking incredibly gross – they all looked disgusting; it had been raining during PT and all of them were covered in mud from the fields. Reno still wasn't used to these sky-showers – in the slums, whenever you felt something wet hitting your head it was usually either leaky pipes or someone upstairs pissing on you ( _leaky pipes_ ). The first time he'd gotten caught in the rain up on the plate, he'd nearly freaked out and lost it – he'd kept looking up trying to find the dick that was using him as a urinal.

"Jealous, Ralphy-boy?" Ray was grinning slightly; his lip healed enough to make him sound normal when he spoke. He made eyes at the other boy.

Ralph just rolled his eyes.

"I'm surrounded by wankers."

Reno spotted Cloud's lip twitching slightly in amusement, and he said what the blond was probably holding himself back from saying.

"Not all of us need to  _wank_ , sugar." He followed it up with a wink and swift knee to Ralph's side. The other cadet 'oof-ed' and glared at Reno as he straightened, spinning around and attempting to elbow the red-head in the side of his head. Reno just dodged it. They had been given a set number of moves by Jeffries, but to familiarize themselves with the new style of fighting they were allowed to play around with them as the situation saw fit – it certainly made class more interesting.

Cloud was smiling slightly at the display – he and Ray hadn't managed to hit each other yet, although Reno doubted it had anything to do with lack of skill. Cloud simply wasn't the type to beat someone up for no reason – and the red-head didn't think the blond counted 'for shits and giggles' as a valid justification for violence. Cloud was too cool for that.

"What're you guys doing this weekend?" Ray asked suddenly.

"Don't you mean ' _who_ ' are they doing this weekend?" Trust Jared to jump in with his usual perverted one-liners from his position on the other side of Ray. Reno snorted in amusement, then had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the expression of sheer horror on Brian's face. The kid was  _way_ too sheltered. Once upon a time, Cloud had been the same.

_But he isn't anymore._

Dammit, Reno wasn't going to get a boner in Jeffries' class.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini._

As it was, Reno missed the first part of Cloud's response.

"…the plate."

Ralph was nodding. "I haven't actually been under the plate before. Mind if I tag along?"

 _Not unless you're joining in_.

Reno wondered how Cloud would react to that. Brian would probably have a heart attack.

Cloud just shrugged, flicking his eyes to Reno. Ray snorted.

"Never pegged you for the threesome type, Ralphy."

Ralph just glared at Ray. "You've been spending too much time with Jared, Junon-quack."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, Rocket-boy."

_Boys._

Reno was a little amused though. It was welcome entertainment – considering he was already well-versed in KFM. Jeffries was on the other side of the hall shrieking at some poor kid to fight like a  _man_ and not a  _cock_ – the avian kind, Reno assumed.

He could tell Cloud was definitely amused with the proceedings – he had an indulgent little half-smile on his lips, the kind that the elderly had while reminiscing and watching the vagaries of today's youth. The red-head wondered for the hundredth time just  _when_ Cloud Strife had turned into such an old man with a boy's face. He wasn't any closer to figuring out this puzzle, but he was surprised that, as the days passed, he was beginning to become more interested in just being  _friends_ with the blond. It was outrageous. Reno had never thought he'd have friends here, not when he was the only hood rat to have rocked up to the Recruitment Drive, but there it was. Cloud's little attitude adjustment had opened up a Whole New World – and suddenly Reno had not one, but  _five_  partners-in-crime (he counted Brian as the plucky comic relief). His earlier posse was all but discarded, and they had, for the most part, assimilated themselves into whatever other cliques were going around – but Cloud's burgeoning reputation was causing more and more to join their little 'group' day by day, and Reno was tempted to start charging membership fees.

He should have majored in business.

"I'm coming." Did Jared have to make  _every_ statement sexual?

Reno bit his lip harder and fought back the laughter. Jeffries was making his way down the line towards them, and Reno wasn't going to attract the Staff Sergeant's attention for having fun in class. The Sergeant was the kind of guy who wanted all of them scowling and grunting 24/7 – apparently it was the only way to make them Manly Men.

"Me too, sweetie." Ray was grinning. Brian looked horrified, but he managed to squeak out a thin "Can I come too?".

"Oh,  _yes_." Ray, Ralph, Jared, and Reno chorused, grinning like idiots.

Cloud just shrugged, and it was pretty obvious that the blond was fighting back his laughter. Jeffries was getting closer and none of them wanted to be put on weekend duty – somehow it  _always_  involved tooth-brushing urinals that were filled with proofs of Friday night's alcoholic indulgences.

The Staff Sergeant stopped right behind Reno. The red-head was getting seriously weirded out. He didn't like having someone so close to him yet so out of sight – it was too vulnerable, it put him in too much danger; and he longed to lash out; barely succeeding in controlling the instinctive urge to shoot first and talk later.

Jeffries didn't say anything for a long time, but the six of them felt the weight of his stare keenly even though they didn't once acknowledge him. Mendez had stopped behind Brian, and that had just made the cadets tense even more.

At length Jeffries broke the tense silence, and Reno nearly spun around and socked him because he was  _that_  tightly wound.

"Good work, boys."

Cloud was the first to recover – the blond hadn't looked too pressured by the sergeants' presence, had simply looked as though he disliked being watched so closely - he offered a quiet "Thank you, Sir", which nudged the others into responding as well.

Once Jeffries and Mendez wandered off and started insulting the crap out of other cadets, the innuendo-filled banter started again.

It was the best class Reno had ever had in cadet training.

##

When it was announced on Thursday that the cadets would be put in the amphibious assault arena the next day, there was a great deal of cheering. Battle Simulation meant  _no PT_.

Cloud didn't know whether to be happy that he wouldn't have to see Gunny Payne's ugly face or disappointed because he wouldn't be able to get more training in. He remembered that Battle Simulation was usually more tiring and physical than PT though, so he supposed it was alright. He was rather looking forward to doing more than just running around a track anyway – while AVALANCHE had been more guerilla-tactics, at least he could experience the high that came from being in a combat situation again. It was a rush, and Cloud had come to love it.

The cadets were in Basics of Improvised Explosive Devices class – it seemed terrorists were remarkably fond of such tools. Cloud had been a bit upset when he'd realized that the terrorists the instructor was referring to were AVALANCHE members, but then he reminded himself that he had been involved in blowing up reactors too. It had dampened his mood considerably, so he welcomed the news of Battle Sims.

Reno was grinning and talking to Ray about how fun it was going to be getting all down and dirty and wet. Cloud was amused – it seemed they had all decided to pervert Brian by the end of training, or at least make him stop reacting to their sexual innuendos. He himself had never made lewd jokes, but Cid and Barret and the future Reno had told him so many that he supposed he was probably very good at them himself.

He wondered how they were doing, if they had even realized he was missing yet. Or maybe he wasn't missing – maybe his older body was going through the motions while he attempted to fix things here in the past. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if his fifteen year old self had taken over his much older body. His reputation would be in tatters faster than Cid could chug a beer.

He'd been planning on visiting Aeris this weekend, but now that the other boys were all planning a field trip down under the plate he didn't know if he would be able to slip away. On the one hand he missed her terribly; but on the other hand he had never actually hung out with a group of guys his age before – Cid, Barret, and Vincent were all older than him, and their get-togethers usually involved alcohol or saving the world. He didn't really know what teenaged boys did when they went out as a group, but he was eager to learn. He'd missed out on so much before, and even though he felt a little selfish because he was putting his own enjoyment over Aeris, he really wanted to experience the joys of friendship without the threat of Armageddon hanging over him. He knew she'd understand, but he sent a quick prayer to the Lifestream anyway. Aeris didn't have Tifa's temper or fists, but the Cetra had her way of getting even – it usually involved nightmares and guilt-trips and Ancient-induced headaches. Cloud felt a little bad for thinking that Aeris had been trying to get even with him because he'd failed her – she had always told him that she'd never blamed him – but he was too used to feeling like he was being punished for his weakness.

_Stop thinking about it. Things are different now._

It was true that things were different. Cloud was actually having  _fun_ , for probably the first time in his life outside of swinging First Tsurugi around and riding Fenrir like a maniac; and he had friends who weren't with him just because they'd kicked some evil butt together. It felt good, but at the same time it was  _horrible_. Because now Cloud had so much more to lose than ever before. He hadn't seen Zack since he'd left the infirmary on Tuesday, but Reno and Ray claimed to have spotted the SOLDIER during some of their theory classes. Cloud doubted he'd see Zack in hand-to-hand or sword-training unless the First wanted his presence known – he knew about the observation rooms above the hall, had heard Zack mention them before. He didn't know if the other man was still watching him, waiting for him to let something slip, but he doubted Zack had given up trying to figure him out yet. Reno seemed to have lost some interest in that pursuit, for which Cloud was glad. Being on guard 24/7 was tiring – he was used to being wary of enemy attacks when he was alone, but whenever he was around people – especially AVALANCHE members – he tended to relax his guard. It was all Tifa's fault.

"Earth to Cloud?" He jerked slightly, grateful for years of control that kept him from lashing out instinctively at Jared's grinning face. He just raised an eyebrow at the other blond.

"Who, or  _whose,_  were you thinking of, huh?" Jared was  _such_ a pervert, but Cloud didn't mind. The other boy was smart and good in a fight – if he remembered correctly Jared actually  _had_  made SOLDIER; or at least the other cadet hadn't joined him in the regulation army.

Cloud just looked at him impassively. "Yours."

Reno, Ray, and Ralph just wolf-whistled. Brian was looking at Cloud like he'd grown another head – it seemed the Kalm boy had been hoping that Cloud would be his Companion in Proper Behavior. Poor kid.

Jared was leering. "Soon, baby." He followed it up with an exaggerated wink and Cloud's lips twitched. He was enjoying himself a lot, he realized, and a part of him wouldn't stop shrieking about how he had to stop having fun, he couldn't afford to let loose, he couldn't afford to believe that he deserved this; because he was weak, useless, a failure, an almost-person, an incomplete copy. He shoved it aside ruthlessly.

_Fuck you._

Cloud had tried the whole not-letting-people-in thing before. It hadn't worked, because he hated being alone. Tifa had Final Heaven'd her way in anyway, and the others had followed in her wake. Cloud had to admit, he was rather used to having friends, knowing that there were people around somewhere who would always welcome his company and who were always happy to spend time with him no matter how morose he was. It had been one of the few things in his adult life that he had actually liked – it helped somewhat with the pain.

_Quit being such a damned pussy._

Alright, he'd admit it. He was fucking terrified. Making friends with the other cadets was a new, novel experience; but he was an  _adult_ for crying out loud. He'd been the most respected and most feared fighter on the entire Planet, and here he was worried he wouldn't be able to get along with others his own age. He was already doing a pretty good job anyway, just being his usual self, so he wasn't going to change it or stop now. Not when he'd finally gotten a taste of what it really meant to be a teenager.

Sometimes it was nice to just act his shoe-size and not his age. Time enough to freak out about the End of Days during quiet-time; if anything his life had taught him to live in the moment, because the next minute someone might go insane and burn everything to the ground.

_Stop thinking about him._

Cloud hadn't seen the General since that day in the hallway, but from what he could remember of his cadet days nobody saw the General unless by accident or at some ceremony or parade. It didn't make the yearning go away though – the knowledge that the man was here somewhere; alive, sane, and as ridiculously gorgeous as ever.

_STOP IT._

Cloud really needed to get a grip. He had never really been interested in explosives – sword-fighting was so much more his style – but he needed to at least pay attention so that he could finish his homework before the others jumped in and stole it off him. It was a nightly routine now – most of his bunk would just copy practically all of the answers off his notes while he either explained stuff to them or just sat there reading a text-book. He had never been a know-it-all, but he was used to being the one that everyone turned to for help. And at least this way he was earning himself more points with some of the other boys who had thought him a wimpy loser turned arrogant revenge-seeking bastard. He had just never been the friendliest or most talkative of people, and he was glad that others were beginning to see that and not chalk his taciturn nature up to him thinking he was all that. Cloud supposed his association with Reno and the others was only helping make him seem more likeable – after all, Reno, Ray, Ralph, and Jared were four  _very_  popular cadets. Brian had always been the Average Joe type, and seeing him in their circle had raised more than a few eyebrows, but Cloud didn't give a damn. Once upon a time,  _he'd_  been the out-cast, and he would never reject someone just because they weren't remarkable. Besides, Brian was pretty intelligent, if a bit prudish and stiff; but more importantly his heart was in the right place, and that meant more to Cloud than a hot body or a cool attitude.

"He's gone cloudy again." Ralph sounded amused. Cloud glanced at him, and seeing the grin on the other cadet's face brought an answering half-smile to his lips – inwardly he was surprised at how easy it was for him to smile here, but he supposed it had something to do with knowing that he had it in his power to stop so many terrible things from happening, and knowing that he could actually have fun doing it. He wondered what Tifa would say if she saw him now.

"We're getting the mission objectives tonight. Teams of six to ten." Ray supplied helpfully, realizing that Cloud had probably completely zoned out when their instructor had informed them of this. Cloud gave him a grateful look. He hadn't been listening, had heard the words 'Battle Simulation' and gone off into his own little world. He really needed to work on that.

"Wonder what method of insertion we're using." Jared winked at Brian, who just squawked. Poor kid. The others were stifling their laughter, and Cloud allowed himself a small smirk as he jotted down a summary of the rather lengthy explanation written on the board in the instructor's  _awful_ hand-writing. He squinted slightly. Some words were nearly impossible to make out, and he could only be thankful that he had his own experience as a terrorist to help him decipher the terms. Someone needed one of those 'Let's Learn to Write' books.

"Still, it's pretty cool, huh? Using SOLDIER Battle Sims arenas." Ralph was leaning against Reno's chair, one arm behind the red-head who was slouched back looking bored out of his mind with the theory on how to spot IEDs – Reno definitely had a lot of experience hiding and seeking weapons, and Cloud remembered that the red-head knew his way around explosives too. He refused to dwell on the memory of Jesse's crushed body.

_SOLDIER arenas?_

Cloud definitely didn't remember  _this_.

He looked to Ray for clarification. The brunette obliged, unable to resist looking amused with Cloud.

"Our usual training grounds are down for maintenance – which, as we all know, is Shinra-speak for 'It's Gotten Fucked' – so the General's approved us for one of the SOLDIER arenas. Great, huh? The Man himself is letting us into his  _playground_." At that last statement, Ray turned to Brian and grinned wolfishly. Cloud was glad the others were focused more on enjoying themselves at Brian's expense – at the mention of Sephiroth his heart had leapt up to snuggle between his teeth.

_Sephiroth approved the use of a SOLDIER arena by cadets? That's not like him at all._

The General would never trust cadets with anything related to SOLDIER until they actually passed their exams. It had been obvious in the way he'd treated Cloud during the Nibelheim mission – he wasn't arrogant or unkind, but he just required proof of ability before he trusted anyone with anything. So why would he give the green light to this..?

_FUCK._

Cloud remembered Reno saying that Zack was "The General's Right-Hand Man". Which meant that if Zack had been running around trying to find out stuff about Cloud and watching him and beating him up, that meant that Sephiroth was probably involved or at least advised of it. Cloud wondered if it was egoistical of him to assume that cadets using SOLDIER Battle Sims was due in part to little ol' Spiky.

_Get a grip._

It had  _nothing_  to do with him.  _He_  didn't know Cloud; had probably forgotten all about him already. Cloud brutally squashed the little flutter of  _something_   _idiotic_  in his chest and focused on copying the instructor's notes. Tonight he'd have to read the mission pack, so he had to get his work done now. No time to think about the impossible. No point reaching for the stars if you're just gonna get mud on your face anyway.

He made out his notes in record time, and Reno somehow managed to snag them as they were being dismissed by Corporal O'Neil. As they made their way to the mess hall, there was more excited chatter than even Zack's appearances had caused. Battle Sims was the highlight of their training because it was so unregimented and spontaneous – that, and it only occurred once every two weeks, which made it all the more special. Not to mention that they, the cadets, lowest of the low in the military food-chain,  _they_ were getting to use the training grounds that Real Bad-Ass SOLDIERs used. It was all cause for celebration. Cloud was just glad for the noise that was keeping him from dwelling on stupid things.

In the dining hall the mission packs were handed out – fat little envelopes filled with facts and objectives for their little pseudo-war. Cloud himself was getting caught up in the anticipation and excitement – how could he not? He had led a team of kick-ass fighters all over the world to battle the Freak That Fell, and now he was getting to experience the thrill of battle in a controlled environment, where it didn't matter if you got 'shot' or if you 'failed' – well, it  _did_  matter a little but no one really gave a damn. Battle Sims = Party Time, and that was that.

Apparently his opinion was irrelevant. Reno and the others made him CO of the group – with another four boys joining them to make ten in total. Cloud wondered if this was another ploy of the red-head's to get him to let slip some clues, but looking at how relaxed Reno was while chatting with Jared about the 'mission', he doubted it.

So what then? Why the hell had they elected him leader of their little 'platoon'?

Cloud was going to get a migraine at this rate. It was just like before – when he hadn't really understood why he'd been made leader of AVALANCHE.

_Oh goddammit._

He was just going to go with the flow. Seize the day and all that jazz. It would be nice to win though – the other cadets usually gave way and let the victors jump in the showers first. And considering they would probably have the obstacle course after their amphibious assault simulation, the perks of being Top Dog were rather tempting.

Cloud looked down at the papers in his hand and read over the objectives again, smirking slightly.

_Too easy._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (1): I don't know if anyone noticed, but I have been using the Marines as a sort of parallel to the cadets and SOLDIERS – the "oo-rah" mentioned here and in chapter 2, the ranking system, and the "bull-ring" mentioned in this chapter. I have always likened the regulation army to Marine grunts, Third Class to SEALS, Second Class to Green Berets, and First Class to Delta Force. I mean no disrespect whatsoever.
> 
> A/N (2): The phrase "bruised and broken and bleeding – in a word: dead" comes from Batman Forever – the scene in the Big Top where Two-Face announces that he wants Batman "Bruised, broken, bleeding. In a word: Dead."
> 
> A/N (3): Sephiroth and loneliness – can anyone say Denial? I've avoided writing from his POV because I needed to get the tone right. Hope I succeeded – bear in mind I'm basing this Sephiroth off what I know of the earlier parts of Crisis Core.
> 
> A/N (4): I am making reference to the game KKND (Krush Kill N Destroy) in the sword-fight when Cloud is filled with the need to "crush, kill, and destroy."
> 
> A/N (5): "The blade isn't the only part of the sword" – a reference to the scene in Kingdom of Heaven where Balian is being schooled by Godfrey in the Art of Combat.
> 
> A/N (6): I used to be a Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles fan as a kid – can't forget the "totally awesome!" phrase – which is why I used it in Reno's part after the sword-fight.
> 
> A/N (7): Yes, you read right. Dr House. I'm not actually a fan, but the man's got style.
> 
> A/N (8): The Keysi Fighting Method was used in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. There are a lot of Batman references in this chapter.
> 
> A/N (9): Almost 24,000 words again. A few 'action' sequences – just because I felt like it was butt kicking time, not butt ******* time.
> 
> A/N (10): That's a lot of author's notes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

On Friday morning, Cloud was surprised to find Reno waiting for him when he was rounding up his private training on the tracks. He slowed to a stop, panting slightly because he'd pushed himself harder than usual given that they weren't having PT today, and his legs hurt, but he ignored them, walking on the spot and giving the other cadet a questioning look. It was still a few minutes before Reveille, and Reno liked his beauty sleep.

The red-head didn't say anything for awhile, just watching him with that unnerving stare that made Cloud itch to grab the nearest blunt object and smack Reno hard over the head. But he was an  _adult_  now, thank you very much, so he just ignored the other boy in favor of cooling down before breakfast.

"You're pretty serious about SOLDIER, huh?" Reno finally broke the silence.

Cloud supposed it was about time the other cadet popped the question. He thought about his answer; the question seemed harmless enough to allow for a truthful response.

"Yeah," Cloud shrugged, stretching his hamstring. He glanced at the other cadet, surprised to find Reno looking off into the distance instead of at him. The red-head seemed to be thinking about something, if the far-away look in his eyes was any indication. Cloud wondered at that – but then again he supposed Reno must have his own reasons for joining cadet training, even if it probably  _was_  just so that he could wear the Turk suit and shades one day.

At length Reno nodded. He didn't say anything else while waiting for Cloud to finish his stretches, and he walked in silence next to the blond as they headed to the bunk for Cloud to grab a fresh tee. The others were already in the bathrooms prettying themselves up for Battle Sims, so the two of them weren't pestered with questions, making it to the mess hall and eating in relative peace until the rest of the cadets joined them.

"We're teaming with Bunkers 4, 5 and 8." Ray said as he sat down next to Cloud. The blond nodded at him, wondering how the brunette always managed to stay so well-informed.

"Who we up against?" Ralph asked sleepily from Ray's other side.

"Bunkers 1, 2 and 9." Ray replied after inhaling two cups of coffee. Cloud wondered why everyone seemed so dependent on the watered-down caffeine – he himself enjoyed a cup every now and then, but only if it was the strong brew that Tifa made so perfectly. Cid's coffee was disgusting, he remembered – bitter and powdery. It was all he could do to take the first polite sip every time he visited Rocket Town.

"4 on 3?" Jared asked from next to Brian. It seemed his perverted mind was slightly less awake at zero-seven-hundred. Or maybe it was because the blond's usual target was still half-asleep and therefore no fun to needle.

Ray shrugged. "That's what I heard. No other bunker's claimed to be joining us – Scuttlebutt is Bunkers 3 and 6 got strapped with extra PT for pissing Payne off yesterday. Something about calling him a baboon-butt."

Reno choked on his third cup of coffee. "No shit?"

Ray grinned. "No shit. Think it was that Brad kid who said it – you know he thinks he's all that just coz his daddy's loaded."

Ralph snorted. "Said the pot about the kettle."

Ray just smiled sweetly, stealing one of Ralph's pancakes and stuffing the whole piece into his mouth. Cloud thought the brunette looked like a gorilla.

"So what's the plan?" Reno asked, rolling his eyes at Ray's and Ralph's daily display of affection.

Cloud paused, a forkful of pancakes and fake syrup an inch from his lips. He set it back down on the plate, thinking about his response. He knew exactly how they should attack, had memorized the map and committed the objectives (all two of them) to memory the night before, but he had to play the part of the inexperienced cadet as well, which made setting out a fool-proof plan a high-wire act at best, and a mine-field trickier than dating a bunny-boiler at worst.

"The objectives are to claim the bunker on the hill, and neutralize any and all enemies we encounter," he said at length. "Every other team will attempt to take the hill from the north side, since it offers the most cover. We could choose to go in with them, hope that the sheer size will afford some protection. Or we could go around the island and take the other teams by surprise."

"Backdoor entry?" Jared asked, grinning. "I  _like_ the way you think, Cloudy."

Cloud rolled his eyes. Sex was to Jared what cigarettes were to Cid.

"You kiss your mother with that mouth, Fontaine?" Ray was grinning, Brian having woken up somewhat. It was Rape Tranton's Ears Time.

"No, but I kissed yours, Johnson." Jared smirked.

Ray raised his eyebrows. Cloud heard Ralph groan.

_Throw-down._

Before the "yo' mama" lines could start in earnest, a whistle sounded, and all the cadets turned to look at the instructors who had entered the mess hall carrying clipboards. They scrambled to their feet, only to receive a barked "as you were", and resumed their seated positions.

"Listen up, ladies!" Staff Sergeant Jeffries bellowed. "Bunkers 4, 5, 7, and 8 are the Blue Team. Bunkers 4 and 5 will be delivered by parachute and gliders, the drop site is 20 yards north-east of the beachhead. Bunkers 7 and 8 will have a 5 minute head-start – you boys will be sea-landing, so be prepared to row your boats, and Don't Fuck Up." He looked at Cloud's table as he said this, but the expression on his face was one of pride. Cloud wondered again at the Staff Sergeant's apparent fondness for him.

"Bunkers 1, 2, and 9 are the Red Team. You boys will be backed by eight SOLDIER Thirds." At this the Red Team cheered, while the Blue Team freaked. Cloud himself sat impassive – he'd been expecting something like this. The General wouldn't send a team of cadets in handicapped – at least not until the last month of training. He didn't trust them enough to hold their own just yet.

Cloud scowled mentally.  _You think you know him so well, don't you?_

A discreet elbow to his side from Ray had him jerking back to reality. The brunette seemed to have expected his zoning out – Cloud thought with some amusement. So this was what it felt like to have friends.

"…will be stationed in and around the bunker. You boys have 20 minutes to name your individual squads, head to the arena, and grab your packs." With that, Jeffries nodded at them, and two other instructors started walking around the mess hall handing out clipboards for the squads to fill in. Cloud accepted the board that was shoved into his hands by a very excited Brian, pulling the pen out from under the clip and starting to scribble down the names of his team mates.

Around him, the others were talking labels while hastily finishing their breakfasts. He listened with half an ear, trying his best to remember everyone's last names.

"What about 'Rambo'?" Ralph suggested.

"Rainbow?" Ray looked at him.

Ralph just rolled his eyes. "Quit being such a poofter. I said 'Rambo' not 'Rainbow' – you know, the dude with the red bandanna and the serious fire-power?"

"Wasn't he gay?" Jared looked up at that comment.

Ralph scowled. "The hell's  _that_ gotta do with anything?"

Ray's brow furrowed. "No idea."

Cloud just rolled his eyes.  _Reno… no-last-name. Right._

"Banana?" Jared volunteered. Cloud swallowed a laugh – the blond was  _way_ too obscene.

"I don't see any bananas," Brian said, looking around. At the amused snorts from the others, he flushed slightly, glaring at Jared.

Cloud was tempted to say "AVALANCHE", but he figured he'd get into plenty of trouble with the SOLDIERs if he did, so he just continued writing while keeping an eye on the proceedings at his table.

"X-Men!" Brian said enthusiastically, bouncing slightly in his seat.

Reno burst out laughing. "Are you for real, Tranton? This MARVEL or SOLDIER?"

Ray was grinning. "Batman!"

"No! Superman's better!" Ralph chimed in, leaning forward eagerly.

"Gotta love his panties." Jared said, smiling dreamily. Brian sputtered.

"Spiderman." Grant had decided to join in the fray. Cloud had never spoken to the other boy before, mostly because fifteen year old him had been scared shitless by the Corel boy's tree-trunk neck. The kid was built like a  _tank,_ but this older Cloud was slightly comforted by the resemblance to Barret.

The argument raged on for awhile more, and Cloud was almost done with the form when Ray turned to him.

"We'll let the CO decide," the brunette declared. Instantly the hairs on Cloud's neck stood up under the weight of nine pairs of eyes. He didn't want to have to choose between MARVEL and DC - it was a hairy, hairy issue.

"Fenrir," he blurted without thinking. He missed his baby.

"Fen-what?" Reno looked confused. Brian was scratching his head, looking like he was going through the Superhero Yellow Pages mentally.

Ray and Jared were nodding. "Fenrir, the killer wolf of myth. Nice." Ray sounded approving, and Cloud was glad. Heaven help anyone who insulted his pride and joy.

"OK, that's decided then," Ralph said, sounding only marginally disappointed. Cloud had never pegged the black-haired boy for a Superman fan – but mostly because he himself had never been a fan. Why read about a fictional Superman when there was General Sephiroth to look at – sans the red skivvies, of course. He was very proud of himself for holding back the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks at the sudden mental image of the General in the infamous blue and red costume – complete with the proud 'S' on his chest, silver hair flying in the wind.

_Get a grip!_

He was becoming one of those rabid fans that he himself ran from in the future. Cloud shook his head. He needed to focus, and he needed to remember how to row a boat – he was too spoilt by Fenrir and Cid.

Names finally filled in, he signed the DD form for their gear and tucked the pen back under the metal clip and stood. The others followed suit and they filed out of the hall, Jared slinging an arm around Brian's shoulders playfully. The brown-haired cadet looked like he would have pushed Jared away if he wasn't so afraid that touching the blond recruit might be misconstrued. Poor kid.

They trooped to the arena, grabbing their packs and loading their assault rifles with paint-pellet magazines. Cloud wanted to laugh – this was turning into some Super Sweet Sixteen Party. Were they  _really_  meant to take Battle Sims seriously with ammo that smelled like cheap watercolors? He didn't deny that it packed a punch though – he vaguely remembered getting hit square between the eyes by a paint-bullet once before and waking up in the infirmary a few hours later with a splitting headache. He handed his clipboard to Jeffries, who held his eyes for a very long moment before nodding and pointing him towards Door Five. Cloud saluted the sergeant, turning to gather the others. As they waited by the steel doors, he briefed them quickly on the course of action.

"We're heading around the island. There's a small inlet about 50 yards from the back of the bunker. It looks to be slightly hidden by an over-hanging rock on the map, but we're wide open if anyone knows to look. Hopefully the others will create enough of a ruckus to distract the Red Team." The others looked impressed, and Cloud wondered if he'd shown off too much. He doubted any of the other cadets had bothered to memorize the map.

"So we sneak up behind them and take 'em out?" Reno was grinning, hoisting his AK-47 on his shoulder and looking exactly like the Turk he would grow to be in future.

Cloud nodded. "That's the general idea. The SOLDIERs will more than likely station themselves in the control room of the bunker – they're pretty fortified in there. The other teams will probably be focusing on guarding the north hill, but there might be one or two cadets patrolling the south side, so we'll have to be careful."

"One minute!" Jeffries bellowed.

Cloud turned to his group, noting how Reno, Ray, Jared, Ralph, and Grant all seemed to be itching for action, while the others looked a little nervous at going up against full-fledged SOLDIERs. He tried to give them a reassuring smile, but he was pretty sure it came out more as a twisted smirk – so sue him but he got high off the thrill of battle; it had been a long time coming, and at least here the world wouldn't end if he failed.

"Select semi-automatic. Conserve your bullets. You know the range on these weapons. Make every shot count." He waited till he got confirmation nods before turning to face the metal doors. The thrum of anticipation was an old friend, and he welcomed it, allowing it to heighten his senses, but taking deep, even breaths to control his heart-beat. SOLDIERs had keen senses after all, and it wouldn't do for his team to thunder their arrival. Might as well just race up the hill waving a bright pink flag. He shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of his ILBE pack – he knew they carried them for practice, to get used to the weight, but that didn't make it any less annoying. For them right now it was just 50 pounds of dead-weight – except for the three liters of water, which would come in handy if Battle Sims dragged on as it usually did.

"Wait, wait!" Brian suddenly exclaimed.

"What is it NOW, Tranton?" Cloud didn't have to look back to know that Reno was rolling his eyes at the brown-haired boy.

"We gotta huddle and cheer first! It's tradition!" Cloud was glad he was facing the door, because he was pretty sure he was gaping like a fish.

_Is he serious?_

"Are you for real?! The hell do we look like? Cheerleaders?" Reno was definitely scowling at the other cadet, if his tone of voice was any indication.

"I think you'd look good in a skirt," Jared reassured him sweetly.

 _I know_ _**I** _ _did._

Cloud kicked himself mentally. He wasn't going to think about Corneo  _now_ , of all times. He shuddered internally – he'd never quite gotten over that lustful gaze and the memory of the stupid dress he'd had to wear. He turned to face the others. Everyone was glaring at Brian, but the boy was not to be cowed – he was looking at Cloud expectantly, as though waiting for their CO to back him up. Cloud sighed.

"All in." He held out his hand, resolutely ignoring how idiotic he felt. He wondered if Brian was in any way related to Yuffie – she'd always been the most ra-ra of the group.

"You're not gonna say 'Leave no man behind', are you?" Ray teased, placing his hand on top of Cloud's. The others reluctantly joined in, Reno and Ralph looking around before quickly shoving their hands into the huddle. Cloud just rolled his eyes.

"On three." Alright he  _definitely_  felt like an idiot now.

Ray was grinning, and Brian looked like Christmas had come early. Reno just looked suicidal.

"One, two, three." Cloud was waiting for someone to  _just_   _shoot him now_.

"OO-RAH!"

The whistle sounded, and the doors opened. Cloud quickly turned and walked in, climbing into the boat and grabbing a paddle. He could feel his cheeks burning and he resolutely ignored the others as they scrambled into the flimsy wooden vessel, Reno quickly grabbing the spot next to Cloud's. Cloud wondered if the red-head knew how to row – they'd had a class on it before, if he remembered correctly, but not many had actually paid attention since most SOLDIERs were deployed by choppers, and no one really cared how the regulation army got dropped off.

"Good to go?" He asked, readying the oar. When the affirmative came, he sank it into the murky water and started paddling.

They reached the beach in less than two minutes, due mostly to Grant's Hulk-like arms. As they dragged their boat up the beach, Cloud turned to take stock of the situation. The other sea-landing teams were still a ways behind them, which meant that it would be another few minutes before the air-drop teams arrived. He looked up at the bunker, noting how the Red Team wasn't exactly bothering to camouflage themselves given that they occupied higher ground and had SOLDIERs backing them up. They weren't bothering to fire yet though, as Cloud's team was still too far away. He turned back to his team mates.

"Alright. We wait for the others to arrive and distract them before we make our way around the island." Reno was grinning, trigger-happy as always, and Cloud wanted to smile.

_Some things never change._

The other boats docked just as the air-drop teams were arriving on the island. As soon as the entire Blue Team was assembled, the horn sounded and The Party Started. Cloud wanted to roll his eyes at the stupidity of the other cadets – did they  _really_  think just charging up the hill was going to help them claim the bunker?

He looked around. Their distraction had arrived, so now the only question was how to reach the other side of the wannabe-island without getting spotted?

##

"This is either genius or madness."

Reno grinned. "It's funny how often those two traits coincide."

The ten of them were attempting to move in come semblance of co-ordination while wading through the water, holding an up-turned row-boat over their heads in an attempt to shield themselves from eyes and stray shots, their assault rifles stretched across their shoulders. Reno felt like a crab. Cloud was in front, leading because none of them had any idea where they were going, and it seemed Cloud had been the only one to memorize the map they'd been given.

"Um…guys?" Brian asked timidly from behind Reno. He rolled his eyes.  _What was it NOW?_

"What is it, Tranton?" Ray didn't even look back from his position next to Reno.

"I need to pee."

Reno tripped. He fell against Cloud, who had apparently been stunned into immobility by Brian's admission, and the blond fell forward, hitting his head against the front of the wooden boat with a solid  _thunk._

_What the FUCK?_

"What?! Dude, what is  _wrong_ with you?! We only just started Battle Sims ten minutes ago and you gotta go  _now_?!" Ralph was yelping as Reno righted himself. Cloud had turned around now, one hand propping up his end of the boat and the other rubbing his forehead.

The side of the boat clipped Reno on the side of his head, and he turned to glare at Ray, who was edging away looking warily at Brian.

"Oi! Quit moving, dipshit!" Reno sputtered, some of the foul water getting in his nose and mouth as the movements of the ten cadets caused their little shield to jerk and sway from side to side.

"I'm not hanging around for him to piss in the water!" Ray glared back at Reno and kept moving.

"Like this water's clean, anyway." Jared wasn't dropping perverted one-liners for once. "Go ahead, Brian. I'm pretty sure plenty other guys have pissed in here."

"What?! Why didn't you say so?!" Ralph's voice broke slightly in his panic. He'd started jumping up and down in an attempt to escape the murky mess surrounding them, but was succeeding only in causing more water to splash around them all as he hit his head against the boat.

Reno looked down in distaste. Just because he was from the slums didn't mean he bathed in piss.

_Gross!_

Cloud hadn't reacted yet, still rubbing his forehead and just standing there watching them freak out.

"I gotta go too," Jared announced.

"What is your problem?!" Ray had jerked away, taking the boat with him and causing Cloud, Reno, and everyone on their side to get hit on side of their heads. Cloud stumbled slightly, causing the front end of their shield to drop, and Reno cursed as he was bonked on the top of his head by the useless wooden vessel.

Everyone seemed to be freaking out, but Reno really hoped no one would just flip their cover over and run for it. He wanted to win, not get shot just because someone needed to go to the bathroom.

Jared was smiling sweetly at Tranton. "We can hold hands, Brian. You need help with your wee-wee?"

Brian shrieked, jerking away and causing the boat to hit everyone on Ray's side.

"Quit it!" Ray yelled, glaring Bloody Murder at the smaller cadet.

"Hold it till we get to the bay." Cloud finally said, giving them all a stern look that seemed to say  _GROW UP._  Reno was quite tempted to declare that Brian had started it.

They continued then, Ralph sounding like he was hyperventilating at being inundated in piss-water.

"Hey, isn't this Marcus' boat?" Jared suddenly piped up from the back.

"What's that gotta do with anything?" Ray was still edging away from Reno's side, looking back at Brian warily every few seconds.

"Isn't he the kid with the gas problem?" Reno turned to glance back at the blond and nearly fell over laughing. Jared had his nose in the wooden slats that functioned as seats, and he was sniffing at them like they were some sexy SOLDIER's pants.

"Dude! What is WRONG with you?!" Ralph's voice broke for the second time that day.

"I'm just checking!" Jared glared at the black-haired boy.

Reno could see Cloud's shoulders shaking silently in mirth out of the corner of his eye.

_Woah, Blondie knows how to laugh?_

"Never pegged you for incontinence issues, Tranton." Ray was smirking slightly.

"Inconti-what?" Brian looked confused.

"He hasn't got it then," Ralph said.

Reno shook his head. It seemed no one was able to remain serious despite the fact that they were meant to be simulating an actual amphibious assault. Not that he could blame them – which kid didn't grow up playing war games?

_Speaking of which…_

He'd been surprised when Cloud had taken charge so easily, despite his protests last night. It seemed the blond was used to a leadership role, which was odd because when he'd first arrived at boot-camp the kid had been the wimpiest and most disregarded of the lot. Not only that, but Cloud had actually  _memorized_ the map they'd been given – Reno had barely spared the piece of paper a glance before going on to read the objectives. And Cloud's plan, while unconventional and ripped right off the silver screen, was still pretty well thought-out, especially considering they were just cadets and this was their first time in the amphibious assault arena. They usually stuck with the sand-box during Battle Sims, so this new course had thrown quite a few for a loop. Cloud had taken it all in stride, and Reno was sure he'd seen the blond smirking last night while reading the mission pack. He wondered if the kid had just played too many war-games when he'd been younger. He doubted it though – the Cloud Strife that had arrived boot-camp had been the out-cast type, the kind of kid whom no one wanted to play with except when a punching bag was needed. But here Cloud was, leading them into 'battle' as though he'd done it a hundred times before, and, alright, Reno couldn't get over this fact, he'd actually  _memorized_ the damned map. Who the hell did that?

_Batman. Duh._

Reno had woken up early this morning, shaken out of slumber by a recurring nightmare that had driven him out of his bed. He'd noticed Cloud's was empty and turned down, so after washing up he'd wandered around looking for the blond cadet. When he'd spotted that familiar spiky head jogging around the track, he'd almost pinched himself. Who trained outside of classes? Bad enough they had PT every morning – what was  _wrong_ with Spiky?

He'd headed down and waited, not knowing why he was there but just knowing that he wanted answers; he wanted to  _understand_  this insane motivation of the other's. It reminded him of someone he used to know – this desire to be the best – and he didn't know how he felt about it. The competitive side of him was demanding to join Cloud every morning from now on, to take him on and beat him; but the other side of him was quite content to let the blond work out alone, thank you, because Reveille was early enough as it was. Reno liked his beauty sleep – it helped that here in the barracks he didn't have to worry about getting jumped in the middle of the night by some junkie looking for a good time or some chump change.

The others were still teasing Brian, and Reno was silently thankful that this wasn't a stealth mission. As it was the sounds of gunfire going on outside their wooden shell were pretty loud, and Reno wondered how the battle was going. They'd been in the water for a few minutes now, and he suddenly hoped that Cloud really  _did_  know where he was headed. Wouldn't do for them to just wade all around the island and end up right where they'd started.

Suddenly the blond stopped. "We're here." Spiky's voice echoed in the up-turned boat as the others stopped messing around. They lifted the vessel slightly higher, and slid out from underneath, careful not to let the boat fall back and give away their position when it smacked the water. Reno looked around. They were indeed in a little inlet, with an over-hanging rock just above them. He was impressed, and he could tell Ralph was as well by the slight whistle the black-haired cadet gave.

"Secure the boat. Don't want it floating off and giving us away." Cloud gestured, and they started hauling the boat into the bay, turning it over and dragging it up slightly to bank on the sandy mound. "Anyone who needs to go, go now." His baby blues locked onto Brian and Jared, but the two had apparently decided they could hold it – either that or they had already gone in the water. Reno didn't want to think about  _that_.

"Lock and load."

Reno grinned.  _Let's get retarded._

##

Cloud inched closer to the top of the hill, listening for any sounds of a patrol, but so far there had been nothing to indicate that they had anything to watch out for. It didn't hurt to be cautious though. He liked the thrill of battle precisely because it was the one simple thing in his life – kill or be killed, easy as that. Nothing else mattered; there was no need to be polite or thoughtful when the world narrowed to staring down the barrel of a gun or the length of a sword. It was uncomplicated - black and white in a world so full of Technicolor that Cloud didn't know how anyone made any decisions. He supposed he thought too much – but if he didn't, if he just acted on instinct, then he'd be called a selfish bastard and told to think about others' feelings. Damned if you do, damned if you don't.

His team was spread out, creeping up the hill on their elbows, each cadet an arm's length from each other in a line abreast formation. Reno was on his right, Brian on his left, and they were almost to the top of the incline. So far it sounded like the rest of the Blue Team was keeping the Red Team pretty occupied on the north side.

Cloud held up a fist when they were a foot from the end of the slope. He gestured to Grant and another cadet who were on opposite ends of the line, and they nodded, inching up slowly and peering over the edge. They glanced back at Cloud and held up two fingers.

_Two cadets patrolling._

It was easy enough to take them out, but Cloud had to think quickly. There might only be two nearby, but they could be on revolving patrol, in which case their team had only a limited interval in which to take them out and move in.

Brian made to rise, but Cloud held him back. The brown-eyed boy looked at him questioningly but Cloud just held up a hand.

"We wait for the opportune moment," he whispered.

Brian nodded, and Cloud gestured again to the others. Grant and Ray inched up slowly on his right, and Jared and another cadet crawled forward on his left. They paused at the tip of the slope, looking to Cloud. He held up a fist, listening carefully. The sounds from the north end of the arena were loud enough to cover their gunfire, but he was waiting for a more constant stream of fire just in case. He counted the staccato sounds, noting that soon enough one of the teams would probably need to reload before letting off another useless unending stream of bullets.

He held up three fingers and the four cadets closest to the edge nodded.

_In three, two, one…_

He dropped his hand, and quickly Ray and Jared pushed up, taking aim and firing quickly just as another long stream of gunfire sounded from the north. The cries of the two Red Team cadets was effectively masked, even to Cloud, and he quickly crawled the rest of the way, rising to his feet as he reached the edge of the cliff. Grant and Jared had already divested the two enemy cadets of their weapons, and were standing lookout. As soon as Cloud and the others reached the top of the incline, Ralph and Reno quickly helped to drag the 'bodies' of the Red Team cadets over to the edge of the cliff, pushing them off gleefully.

Cloud led the way quickly, rifle at the ready, scanning the area with practiced ease as he moved silently towards the bunker. There was a rock formation a few feet from the back door of the bunker, and if they could get to it before anyone spotted them it would afford them some cover.

Team Fenrir reached the rock formation and threw themselves behind it just as the door to the bunker swung open, Cloud himself barely managing to duck down in time to hide his spiky hair. He held a hand perpendicular to his brows, and Ray and Jared peered out from around the corners of their little wall, quickly pulling back and holding up two fingers before mouthing 'SOLDIER'.

They had to take out two SOLDIERs before reaching the bunker? Cloud wanted to grin. He liked a challenge.

He listened carefully, unable to hear much due to the gunfire but unable to raise his head for fear of his blond spikes giving them away. He caught the eyes of the others, gesturing again. Jared and Ray were to take out the SOLDIERs while the others provided cover fire on his count.

Cloud shifted slightly, holding up three fingers. He counted down, and as he dropped his hand Team Fenrir sprang into action, Jared and Ray quickly leaning around the edges of the rock formation and lying on their stomachs, taking steady aim as Cloud and the others sprang up, letting off a volley. The Thirds seemed unprepared for this, and went down easily enough. Ray and Jared moved in quickly, standing watch by the door as the others dragged the Thirds behind the rock formation. Cloud peered over, quickly motioning the others to take their places along the back of the bunker. He followed last, heading straight for the door. Nodding once at Ray, who gripped the handle, he held his rifle up, standing slightly back. Then Ray swung the door open and Cloud took aim. There was no one there, no one that he could see anyway, so he moved in, rifle at the ready.

They were in the lion's den. Cloud was definitely grinning now.

_Just like old times._

##

Zack hadn't been able to get the image from yesterday out of his head. He'd been passing by the IED Basics class and had glanced in through the glass pane on the door. The sight of Cloud and his friends had stopped him dead in his tracks.

The six cadets had commandeered the back bench, with Cloud in the middle. On one side of him had been the red-head, slouched back in his seat. The black-haired cadet in the window seat had been leaning against the slum kid's chair, an arm around the back of it. On the other side of Cloud had been a brunette leaning back in his chair twiddling a pen, with another blond in between him and a light brown haired boy who had looked scandalized with something or other. The others had all looked amused, and Cloud had been smirking slightly.

They looked Bad.

Zack kinda felt sorry for the light-brown haired cadet – seated next to the five super hot boys, he'd looked so much plainer by comparison. Cloud had been the prettiest of the lot, delicate looking even with that sexy smirk on his lips. Reno-no-last-name was hot, no doubt about it, with his unique coloring, the scars on his face only lending him a more feral, dangerous air even leaning indolently back. All in all, it had been the perfect setting for a mafia porn video ('Good Ass, Bad Ass' anyone?), and Zack had fled because if he'd lingered any longer he was going to get some very less-than-wholesome thoughts about Spiky.

His enquiries had led to him feeling very proud of Cloud for hanging with the Cool Kids. It seemed Reno-no-last-name, Ray Johnson, Ralph Vikers, and Jared Fontaine had been the most popular cadets since Day One of training – and they were certainly four of the best-looking. Cloud had good taste.

No one really knew the name of the brown haired kid, and Zack had had to resort to looking through the roll call sheet to find his name. Brian Tranton – as plain and unassuming as they came, with his light brown hair and light brown eyes – a middle class kid from Kalm. A bona fide Average Joe. The instructors agreed that Tranton had never really hung out with Reno and the others until Cloud's attitude change – and Zack was prouder still of the little blond for being so kind and decent to someone who was obviously easily over-looked. It seemed Cloud wasn't the type to rub his new-found popularity in the faces of the 'losers' – then again, looking at the kid it was easy to understand that he'd been one of them before: weak and disregarded. Zack was glad for this softer side of Cloud. It made the blond so much sweeter in his eyes, and so much better suited for his Grand Plan – if he could get over his principles and put it into action before they all died of old age.

Zack was in the observation room, watching the screens as the many cameras hidden around the arena indulged his voyeuristic tendencies. Cloud's team had been easy enough to spot, even though the screens were black and white – it was the best-looking team of cadets to ever come through Shinra. It helped that they weren't wearing their helmets – too many had been broken in Battle Sims and the bean counters were getting annoyed. That and Zack and some of the other Firsts liked to use them as baseballs, but as far as he knew no one had figured  _that_  out yet, thank God.

When Cloud's team had waded back into the water and covered themselves with an up-turned boat, Zack had wanted to burst into song. He probably would have, too, if Sephiroth hadn't given him The Look. As it was he resorted to humming under his breath, enjoying how the General was desperately trying to tune him out.

Zack was very proud of himself for introducing CSI to Sephiroth.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me," Zack was grinning and he knew his breathily murmured tune was getting on Sephiroth's nerves; but true to form the General pretended that Zack was just a fly buzzing stupidly around the observation room.

Cloud's team was good – they worked as a cohesive unit, and it seemed Cloud's authority was unquestioned; although for awhile there in the water their little boat-shield had jerked and spasmed so much that Zack had wondered if they were having an orgy underneath their vessel. Pity there weren't any cameras under water.

When they had taken out two other cadets and two SOLDIER Thirds within minutes of each other, Zack hadn't been able to stop himself from letting out a low whistle. Cloud's team was  _very_ good. He'd glanced at Sephiroth - and to anyone else the General might have appeared indifferent to the situation - but Zack could see that his friend was surprised and impressed in the way he was leaning forward slightly in his chair.

Cloud was moving up  _very_  quickly in the General's book.

Now they were moving swiftly through the bunker, clearing rooms one by one while four cadets remained guarding the hallways. It was ordered, systematic, and highly efficient – there was absolutely no wasted movement, no confusion, and no one was bumping into anyone or blocking each other's escape routes. Cloud had organized them well, and with only basic hand-signals – Zack had only seen this level of structure with SOLDIERs who had trained together for at least a month – and yet here was a group of ten cadets moving through a fortified structure with the practiced ease of veterans. He wondered if Cloud was telepathic, or if this group had somehow gotten extra training in without anyone else noticing.

He wondered how much of this was due to Cloud.

The cadets took out another two SOLDIERs by the stairs, and Zack grinned as the two Thirds were dragged down the hallway and shoved into a room, the door closed on their grouchy faces. No SOLDIER had expected to be taken down by cadets – if anything the Thirds had fought for the opportunity to join the Battle Sims because they wanted to whup some maggot butt.

Beside Zack, Jeffries puffed out his chest in pride. Zack was a little amused – Jeffries seemed to have a soft spot for Cloud, although Zack had no idea why. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that apparently Jeffries himself had been a late-bloomer, had been on the small side as a cadet before hitting a growth spurt and ballooning into the burly 6'2 instructor he was today.

Team Sex Bomb was nearing the control room, moving up the stairs in a decidedly serpentine manner and approaching the fortified area where the remaining four SOLDIERs were lying in wait. If they could take the Thirds out without losing any of their own, it would be an impressive record indeed. Zack glanced at the clock. The simulation had been going for slightly more than fifteen minutes, not including the five-minute head start that the sea-landing teams had been given. They were one minute away from the course record, but Zack doubted they could make it in time – they  _were_ just cadets after all, even if they were being led by someone as seemingly experienced as Cloud.

He really wanted to know how Cloud came to be so good at leading a team to victory in combat, but more than that he really wanted to know why he took such pride in Cloud's performance when he'd only spoken to the kid a handful of times. He supposed he felt a little guilty over cracking Cloud's rib in sword training, and he hadn't yet approached the blond with the offer of private classes because somehow this obsession with the little cadet was getting a bit too much, even by Zack's standards – he had actually woken up at zero-seven-hundred and made it to the observation room before the simulation started, shocking even the General himself. He wasn't in love or in lust – he'd sat down and had a good long think about that – so what was it then? Why this over-whelming desire to protect the blond, why this strong affection for someone he didn't even know? It was getting ridiculous, and Zack was getting frustrated with the lack of answers. He supposed getting to know the kid through private training would help, but what if all that he succeeded in obtaining were more questions than answers? Sephiroth hadn't been able to shed any light on the situation, although the day after Zack had beaten Cloud the General had noted that the blond had had a style of fighting eerily similar to Zack's – Sephiroth himself had been surprised by this discovery, had disregarded it at first during his observation in favor of the spark of fear he'd seen in Cloud's eyes. But then the General had said that Cloud appeared to mimic his opponents – at least when the blond had been fighting Reno he'd adopted a decidedly street style of fighting, which had changed to mirror Zack's later on, so they had come to the conclusion that Cloud was simply very, very smart when dealing with different opponents - could adjust himself accordingly to the situation. That took some serious skill, which had only raised more issues that they had puzzled over unsuccessfully.

_Who ARE you, Cloud Strife?_

Zack wanted answers, he wanted Cloud to just  _tell_ him what was going on, but he also didn't want to push the kid. From what he'd seen it seemed the blond had been through something pretty horrible, and Zack was either related to it or resembled someone enough to cause Cloud to look at him in that odd way of his. Zack didn't want to dredge up any painful memories for the cadet, because maybe it had taken the blond this long to get over his issues and come into his own and Zack didn't want to jeopardize Cloud's chances at SOLDIER by messing with his head. But even so… he really wanted  _answers_ , dammit!

He let out a frustrated sigh that had Jeffries and Sephiroth looking at him oddly. He offered them a grin, and Sephiroth just shook his head slightly before turning back to the monitors. Cloud's team was approaching the control room, and it seemed the SOLDIERs had heard them coming. Well, they  _were_ genetically-enhanced after all – if they couldn't hear ten cadets sneaking up on them they'd be sacked quicker than Hojo could raise Sephiroth's blood pressure.

It seemed Cloud knew they'd been had – although  _how_ he knew that, Zack had no idea - it was probably just paranoia or luck, the SOLDIER supposed. Cloud gestured quickly to the others, mouthing something to them that the cameras couldn't quite pick up on due to the angle, and his team-mates nodded, moving into position quickly along the corridor. They were spread out along the T-junction, and Cloud signaled to the two on either side of the control room doors. They nodded, one of them grasping the handle firmly, then Cloud gave him a nod and the Fontaine kid swung the door open just as Cloud and Reno threw themselves to the ground, sliding forward in their water-logged uniforms and firing away. The other boys had backed up, offering cover fire, with two others further down the direct stretch of corridor before the open door ducking quickly to avoid getting hit by the SOLDIERs. Cloud and Reno had already taken out the two SOLDIERs nearest to the door, and the remaining two Thirds were taking cover behind an over-turned table. It had turned into a Good Old Fashioned Gun-Fight, and Zack was loving the show.

_The Good, The Bad, and The Sexy._

He chuckled, leaning forward eagerly so as not to miss a moment. The other cadets had moved in quickly, the monitors showed Cloud yelling instructions but his rifle was obstructing the view of his face so Zack couldn't quite figure out what the blond was shouting. Vikers and Johnson had thrown themselves into the room, rolling on the ground before coming to a rest on their stomachs between the legs of another table. A burly, dark-skinned cadet was thundering down the corridor with a table he'd commandeered from another room, and he charged in, dropping it before Cloud and Reno just in time to save the two from getting hit with paint-bullets. Tranton, Fontaine and three others were guarding the corridor, and it was a good thing too, because at that moment several more enemy cadets had charged up the stairs – but they were taken out before they had even raised their rifles to the ready position.

_SO unprepared._

Zack was smirking, he knew that. His breath was coming in short bursts, and he was gripping the edge of his seat tight. From what he was seeing Cloud and Reno were simply firing wildly at the Thirds while Vikers and Johnson attempted to inch forward in order to get clearer shots as the burly kid dragged the downed Thirds out of the room by their feet - Zack couldn't stop himself from laughing; it was all too much like one of the Saturday morning cartoons of his childhood. Cloud seemed to be yelling more instructions, and the burly kid nodded, ducking back into the fray and picking the table up by its legs, charging forward like a raging bull with his wooden shield before him. Cloud and Reno stood up quickly, still firing wildly, and the Thirds, shocked at this sudden aggressive maneuver, were distracted enough that Vikers and Johnson managed to stand up, take aim, and fire off two precise shots along the Thirds' vermillion lines.

_Smack dab between the eyes! Nice work!_

Zack was cheering and clapping, and it seemed the Thirds were too stunned to react – those paint-pellets had a  _nasty_  kick. The cadets were pumping the air with their fists, and Zack laughed out loud when Cloud was suddenly enveloped completely in an impromptu group hug – the big, burly kid dwarfing the diminutive blond cadet by more than a head. Cloud had a long-suffering expression on his face, but there was the barest hint of a smile as well, and Zack suddenly wished those other stupid cadets would just get out of the way so that he could see this happier side of the blond.

_Smile, kiddo. You're on Candid Camera._

Zack was smiling like an idiot, he knew. But Jeffries was grinning like a monkey, so it was fine. He turned to glance at Sephiroth, and wasn't surprised to find that the General had already disappeared, the door to the observation room shutting soundlessly behind him.

Cloud had made more of an impact than Sephiroth had liked.

_Boom._

##

The cadets had to announce their victory before Battle Sims was officially ended, and until they did they were fair game for any other Red Team cadets that happened to come across them. Cloud was trying to get Reno or someone else to do it for him – he didn't want to make an announcement to an arena filled with other cadets, he'd never been one for public speaking – but the others wouldn't hear of it.

"You do it," Ray said, looking at him. "You're the CO." The others voiced their assent.

Cloud sighed and nodded, walking over to the window-ledge and leaning down to speak into the microphone, flicking the red switch at its base.

"This is Cloud Strife of Team Fenrir. We have Disneyland. I repeat: we have Disneyland."

The horn sounded then, echoing throughout the arena loudly and barely masking the cheering going on around him. He straightened and turned to face the others, feeling rather proud of himself and trying desperately not to show it. Cloud doubted it was working.

"Wow, is that a new course record?" Reno was grinning and high-five-ing Ray. Jared was hip-thrusting at the air and Brian was studiously looking elsewhere while smiling as though he didn't believe they'd won but he was happy anyway. The SOLDIERs just rolled their eyes, but Cloud didn't miss how one of them kept giving him odd looks. He wondered at that, but realized it was probably the Third recognizing his name from the spar with Zack. It wasn't often a First Class deigned to tango with cadets, and it was especially rare for said cadet to have held his own.

He endured the friendly slaps from the rest of the team, struggling to hold back his own pleased grin, but he could tell it was a losing battle. They had just taken out eight SOLDIERs after all – and not one of their team had been hit. It was a proud moment, almost like one of those great defining moments in one's life, and Cloud had never felt this invincible in all his years. His adult mind was telling him that it was just a folly of youth, that they'd gotten lucky this time because the Thirds had grossly underestimated the cadets, that he'd better not think he was actually  _good_ at something; but the other part of him was just so damned happy that he couldn't really be bothered listening to his more rational side. It felt good to have accomplished something, even something as small as winning a Battle Simulation, and he'd done it  _without_  Hojo's tweaking. Cloud felt he had every right to bask in the glory of the moment – he had certainly deserved it,  _they_ had certainly deserved it.

_If you could just see me now, Zack. You'd be so proud of me, I know you would be._

He smiled when Reno grabbed him in a one-armed hug, and burst out laughing when Ray ruffled his hair. He felt so exultant, and, even though Nibelheim was approaching and with it the End of Dreams, he just wanted this moment to last forever – because here, now, nothing could touch him, nothing could hurt him, and if he could only hold on to this feeling for the rest of his life he'd never ask for anything more.

At length the announcement came over the intercom, echoing off the walls of the arena.

"Congratulations to the Blue Team for winning the Battle Simulation," Jeffries boomed down at them. "And congratulations to Team Fenrir, led by Cadet Strife, for finishing the course in nineteen minutes and twenty-seven seconds. None of their team was hit, and they were slightly more than three minutes away from the course record." At that, Reno and the others whooped, and Cloud was nearly strangled by another impromptu group hug. "All cadets are to report back to the mess hall for a debriefing in thirty."

"You heard that? We were only three minutes away from breaking a SOLDIER record!" Reno yelled, jumping up and down and nearly taking Cloud's head off with him as the red-head's arm was still around Cloud's neck. The blond rolled his eyes, unable to resist smiling at his team's exuberant cheer.

Ray and Jared had started singing 'We Are The Champions', grabbing onto the others and swaying from side to side. Cloud allowed himself to be man-handled, unwilling to spoil the moment just yet by reminding them that they had to haul ass if they wanted to make it back to the mess hall in time for the debriefing. He supposed the other cadets would take their own sweet time as well – no one wanted to be back in time for the last leg of PT.

After another endless round of cheering, the team headed back down to their boat, surprised to find it was still there. The Red Team cadets they passed along the way offered laughing congratulations, complaining that they should have just waited another hour before announcing their victory because then they would definitely not have to head to PT. Cloud endured more friendly pats on the back – his cheeks hurt from smiling so much – and he accepted the congratulations showered on him. They rowed back to the doors of the arena, Reno and the others yelling and whooping and waving their oars over their heads so much so that they were all drizzled with more piss-water, but no one cared right now. They'd  _won_ , and they hadn't been hit at all.

Other cadets were calling congratulations from the beach and the other boats, and it had turned into one gigantic celebration in this one gigantic arena – Cloud was waiting for the bubble to burst or for the dream to end, because surely no one could be this happy in real life? – but it didn't end, and nothing horrible happened on the way back to the mess hall, unless he counted being glomped and patted incessantly as torturous. He took his usual seat as the others clapped and cheered; Reno, Ralph, Ray, and Jared standing on the table and bowing to the adoring masses. They tried to drag Cloud up with them, but he resolutely clamped his legs around his seat and refused to budge, so they contented themselves with dealing with the fans. Cloud had never grinned so much in his life.

At length Jeffries and the other instructors arrived, yelling at Reno and the others to get their asses off the tables before they were put on weekend duty – they scampered down in a flash – and then Cloud had to endure Jeffries' very proud, very broad smile and gruff "Excellent work, Strife" in front of everyone. He couldn't help flushing slightly with pride, thanking the Staff Sergeant and saluting him before sitting back down.

When the hall had quieted down, Jeffries announced that as they had finished so quickly and so close to the record, they were all excused from PT – the entire canteen burst into such jubilant cheering that he had to blow his whistle several times to get their attention – and they were allowed to do as they pleased until their next class as long as the COs organized the return of their teams' deuce gears before lunch. Cloud was almost knocked off his seat by an exuberant Ray throwing himself at him, and it was only because he was seated right next to the wall that his head was saved from hitting the floor. The minute the sergeants left the chow hall, Cloud's table was swarmed by other cadets, and Reno and Ralph started loudly proclaiming that they would tell them all  _exactly_ how they'd done it, and why they were just  _the_   _flyest_  cadets in Shinra history. Cloud just shook his head, getting up to get himself a cup of coffee. He needed to be shocked back to reality by the mud-water that passed as caffeine here in training before arranging for his team to return their packs.

_Good times, great taste._

##

Sephiroth didn't know how he should be feeling. He supposed that, as General, he should be glad that this next batch of future SOLDIERs showed such obvious talent and teamwork. He supposed as well that he should be feeling proud of the cadets, Strife in particular, for such excellent work. And maybe he should be feeling a little disgruntled that his Thirds had been taken down within minutes by ten recruits.

Nothing in his life had prepared him for this moment – nothing in CSI had shown him how to react to something like this. Because, try as he might, he couldn't quite figure out exactly  _what_ it was that he was feeling. And he didn't like it. Cloud Strife had upset his equilibrium, had stomped all over it like Bahamut with ants in its pants, and Sephiroth was Not Pleased At All, despite the rather pleasant, unfamiliar feeling in his chest. He wished he had Zack here to tell him what was going on – but that would mean actually telling Zack how he was feeling, and Sephiroth would kiss Hojo before he did  _that_.

He looked down at the papers before him. Soon enough the videos of the simulation would be on his desk, as well as the reports from the instructors, and then he would definitely have to acknowledge the uncomfortably unknown emotion that he was faced with, and he was hoping to postpone that as long as possible.

Sephiroth sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to focus on the mission report in front of him. Where was his world-famous control when he needed it most?

Alright, he'd face up to it. Before Zack arrived and started annoying him with his bouncy comments. If the First actually  _dared_ sing that stupid song in his office, Sephiroth thought he might just make Zack spend the weekend babysitting the President. He smirked at the thought – it was an excellent revenge, actually. Zack guarded his weekends jealously, becoming a hedonistic alcoholic every time Friday evening rolled around, and the President was either boring as a white wall or lecherous as a horn-dog.

Sephiroth sat back in his chair, letting his elbows rest on the arms of his leather chair and his hands dangle over his thighs. Time to think about this logically, rationally. What exactly was he feeling?

When Strife had led his team to over-turn the row-boat and duck under it, heading around the island, Sephiroth had been…amused and impressed. Until Zack had looked like he'd been about to burst into song, then Sephiroth had just given him a warning look and tried to ignore the First's murmured singing.

When Strife's team had then taken out the first two Thirds they'd encountered, Sephiroth had been impressed. The SOLDIERs hadn't expected enemy cadets to close in so quickly, so they'd gone down without a fight.

When Strife had then led his team systematically through the bunker, Sephiroth had been impressed and suspicious. The way Strife guided his team indicated he was an old hand at infiltration – but the boy was just a  _cadet_ , and he'd never been very good at anything until recently.

When Strife had commanded his team to victory in a gun-fight over four SOLDIER Thirds, Sephiroth had been impressed, surprised, and…proud. He paused to consider that last emotion. Yes, that was it – pride - that  _must_ be it. He'd had a rather warm feeling in his chest, and he'd felt the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. A quick glance at Jeffries and Zack indicated that they had been grinning broadly at the screens; but the emotion was so alien, so foreign to the General that he had upped and left quickly before Zack could pester him with questions and force him to admit that he'd felt  _something_ over Strife's flawless victory.

Alright, so he'd felt proud of the boy. Was that really so bad? He  _was_ the General after all – and a cadet in the SOLDIER program was proving to be an excellent candidate for SOLDIER, was proving himself to be an incredible team-leader. There was nothing wrong with feeling proud, except for the fact that it was a  _cadet_  for crying out loud – Sephiroth had never bothered with cadets before, had never even learned their names until Strife had broken that other cadet's arm and then foiled Hojo in the hallways. What was it about the boy that made him so impossible to forget? That made him capable of sneaking into the General's dreams even though they had never spoken to each other?

Sephiroth frowned. He wasn't going to think about that. That was just him being male and young – he  _was_ only twenty-five after all.  _That_  matter was irrelevant. All Sephiroth was feeling was pride over the fact that a cadet was showing such promise, and there was nothing wrong with that, absolutely nothing wrong with that.

His mind made up, he pushed all thoughts of a blond-haired, blue-eyed cadet away and sat up, focusing on his paperwork. He needed to get it done before Zack came barreling in with lunch. Sephiroth hoped the First would bring some good Wutaian with him – it was Friday after all.

 _TGIF_.

##

Cloud wondered when everyone was going to get over what happened in Battle Sims. The cadets were in obstacle course now, and he'd been patted and friendly-slapped and congratulated ceaselessly throughout target practice and lunch. And now he was still getting people coming up to him telling him how awesome he was several hours after the fact.

It wasn't that he didn't like being told he'd done a good job, and it wasn't that he didn't like people liking him. It was just that he had never really been one for attention, and  _would these idiots just get over it already?_

He didn't say anything though, giving every one of his fans a half-smile and a half-hearted "thank you". Reno and the others had, for the most part, deflected the attention away from him and he was grateful for that – even though he figured they probably wanted the attention for themselves, but hey, 'sharing is caring' as they say. Cloud was very happy for the rest of his team to be inundated with praise if it meant that everyone would  _just leave him alone_.

He sighed, scaling the wall effortlessly, not scraping his knees as he had last week. He dropped soundlessly over the side, and headed towards the monkey-bars. Some nameless  _twit_ called out congratulations to him, and Cloud gritted his teeth and gave the kid a small wave. The ever cynical, ever pessimistic side of him wondered if they were just doing this to mock him, to remind him of how pathetic and useless he'd been the last time they'd had Battle Sims. He resolutely pushed that thought out of his head. Much as he hated the unending flattery, he hated being a depressed little brat even more.

He made it through the obstacle course without biting anyone's head off, and sat himself in between Reno and Ray when they were being lectured on the finer points of scaling a building. He was rather looking forward to it – urban playgrounds were more his thing, not these silly plaster rock walls with their garishly colored hand- and foot-holds.

They headed to the showers after that, Reno slinging an arm around the blond's shoulders in a subtle gesture to ward off any and all admirers, and Cloud was very glad for the red-head's perceptive nature and unnatural thoughtfulness. It certainly helped keep the more touchy-feely fans away, and Cloud was starting to think that if his clothes were fingerprint scanners he'd have the prints of every cadet on file by now. He could've sworn he'd been groped on purpose during some of the hugs he'd been subject to – and that had raised his hackles even more. He didn't like being touched, unless it was  _certain_ people with  _certain_ privileges.

As it was, Team Fenrir was allowed first dibs at the showers, and they accepted this proof of their victory gratefully – Cloud included. He had tried not to think about Jared's comment on the hygiene of the arena water, but he could've sworn his skin was starting to itch unnaturally. Ralph had been pretty sure a ringworm had burrowed under his skin – and it had taken them all of lunch hour to convince him that it was just a bruise from hefting a boat over his head and crawling in the mud and gun-fighting with SOLDIERs.

Cleaned and refreshed, Cloud sat on his bunk, leaning against his pillow and stretching lightly. It felt  _good_  – he hadn't realized how tiring Battle Sims had been until he'd been crawling through mud again in the obstacle course and then his body had started to ache from all the slinking and scampering he'd had to do with that stupid deuce pack on his back.

When the Supply Crew made their run, he'd asked for whisky. He needed something strong. Reno just raised an eyebrow at that, but croaked for whisky as well, lying back on his bunk and not even bothering to dry his hair. They were  _exhausted_.

Cloud wondered if this meant that 'other physical pursuits' was off the menu tonight.

_Pervert._

So sue him, but he was only fifteen. Technically.

Ray had opted to collapse onto Cloud's bed, flopping across the blond's legs rather dramatically and groaning blissfully as his back was stretched in this position with his head hanging over the side. Jared had become a boneless lump on his bunk, and Ralph had given up trying to pull a shirt on, simply collapsing onto the floor and leaning against his bunk, eyes half-closed and mouth half-open.

Cloud wondered what would happen if they were suddenly dropped in the middle of a battle zone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt thisexhausted after a skirmish – but then again he didn't have Mako here to back him up, and he  _was_ a pretty small fifteen year old who'd lugged a 50 pound pack up a hill and around a bunker.

When the dinner bell sounded, it took all of Cloud's willpower to drag himself off his bunk – which had suddenly morphed into the softest of beds with satin sheets and feather-downs. They trudged to the mess hall, getting their food and slumping into their seats gracelessly. It was only after the first few bites that the cadets started feeling more alive, and Cloud could feel himself becoming more human already.

' _Other physical pursuits' are back on the menu._

He really was turning into a pervert.

By the time they'd finished their dinner and started walking back to their bunker, Jared had recovered enough to shower Brian with sweet nothings. Cloud couldn't stop himself from smirking, and he had to bite his lip several times to keep from laughing out loud – Brian was  _way_ too stiff – and, alright, Cloud himself was starting to get with the lewd program mentally but at least he wasn't  _saying_  anything perverted.

They stopped at the vending machines - Jared was trying to advise Brian on which chips would taste best on his skin – and Cloud was doing his best to ignore the brown-eyed boy's horrified squeaking. Reno and the others were debating the combination of salty chips and sweat, with Ray adamantly stating that chocolate was the only thing that tasted good on someone else – Cloud wondered how a fifteen year old rich kid from Junon had gotten so damned experienced so young, then decided he really didn't want to know. Reno he could understand – the slums weren't the most proper of places; and Jared was a pervert, simple as that.

Chocolate sounded good, actually.

He got his snacks, un-wrapping his chocolate bar and taking a bite while waiting for the others to make their selections. Brian looked like he didn't want to get anything anymore, but the allure of candy was too strong and in the end he bought eight bars of chocolate. Ray gave Jared an 'I told you so' look.

Back in the bunks, Reno pulled out his deck of cards again, and Cloud wanted to groan. He  _really_ didn't want to get suckered into a game of strip poker again – he just wanted to get  _drunk_. They started with a regular poker game, Jared suggesting they play for bathroom time – Cloud nearly fell off the bed when he heard it – but in the end they decided that the victor would get to choose what they did over the weekend. Brian had managed to wedge himself firmly between Cloud and the wall - far, far away from Jared, and Cloud wanted to laugh. He himself was smaller than Brian, smaller than Jared - and yet here he was being used as a human shield. Brian should have hidden behind Grant The Hulk if he was serious about escaping Jared's perversion.

Ray had some serious poker skills when he knuckled down to it – he was giving both Cloud and Reno a run for their money, and Cloud's more competitive side rose to the occasion. Ralph was egging them on, giving some of the  _dumbest_  advice Cloud had ever heard, simply because the drinking couldn't start until the Poker Champion took the first sip of alcohol.

Cloud won – a straight flush. He hadn't been expecting it – could this day get any better? – but he indulged his fans and took a very long drink of whisky straight from the bottle. It burned going down, but it reminded him so much of days spent at Tifa's trying desperately to forget that his eyes burned even more. He was glad that the others were too focused on catching up with him to notice how hard he blinked, hurriedly chasing away the memories of a bleaker future. He didn't want to spoil this – it could all go to the dogs tomorrow or in the next hour – but right now, right here, there would be only laughter and enough alcohol to fill the amphibious assault arena.

"I propose a toast!" Jared declared, holding his bottle of rum up like a sotted pirate-king on a deserted island. "To backdoor entry!"

Brian choked on his beer, and Cloud attempted to thump the other cadet's back while struggling to hold back his chuckles, raising his bottle of whisky in the air and toasting with the others.

"To Cloud!" Ralph yelled from his position on the floor next to Reno's bunk.

"To Cloud and backdoor entry!" Ray crowed, taking a swig of his whisky without waiting for anyone else to join him.

"To Cloud's backdoor entry!" Jared shouted, not to be outdone. Cloud almost dropped his whisky bottle, staring at the other blond while trying to decide if he wanted to laugh or run the kid over with Fenrir and then back up for good measure. Reno was in hysterics - the  _bastard_.

In the end he just downed half his bottle in one long gulp. Alcohol made  _everything_  better, he was starting to learn. In the future, when he hadn't been able to get drunk, alcohol had just been a symbol of his failure and imperfection, a reminder of how very different he was; but as a fifteen year old cadet, alcohol was fast becoming his BFF.

The poker game started again, no one was drunk enough to play the stripper version yet, thank God, and Cloud allowed Jared to take his seat next to Brian because being used as a human shield was something Cloud doubted he could ever get used to – there was  _far_  too much touching involved. He ignored Brian's betrayed gasp, scooting over to sit next to Ray, who clinked his bottle against Cloud's and suckered him into a little drinking contest. Cloud wondered how they'd managed to get so many bottles of whisky – but then he remembered that Ray's family usually sent crates of the stuff over in care packages every month. Cloud had friends in high places; he was moving up in the world – he was a social butterfly, he was the cat's pajamas, he was  _Batman_.

_We are the cartoon heroes._

Reno looked more relaxed than Cloud had ever seen him – the red-head almost always had a casual air about him, always looked like he had just wandered in from a tropical holiday – but this was  _more_ than that. The other cadet looked almost…tranquil, content,  _happy._  Cloud could remember smug Reno, pleased Reno, sated Reno, and full-of-himself Reno; but he certainly never remembered seeing the red-head so at ease with everyone and everything.

_First time for everything._

They played five games of Hold'Em before they were drunk enough to start strip poker – and this time no one had prepared themselves for it with an excess of clothing articles on their person. Cloud was desperately trying to remember which was a stronger hand – a flush or a full-house – because he had a feeling he'd have to take his shirt off pretty soon if he kept drinking like a fish. It was all Ray's fault – the Junon kid was a damned good drinker, and he had copious amounts of whisky which he shared very liberally with Cloud.

In the back of his mind Cloud wondered if Ray was just plying him with drinks before The Big Bang.

Jared was leaning against Cloud, rum-stained breath in his ear hot and heavy as the blond looked at Cloud's hand – the taller cadet wasn't bothering to play strip poker; he had already taken his shirt off for them, exhibitionist that he was – and snorted.

"You're SO stripping this round, Cloudy." Cloud wanted to smack him, but his arms felt a little heavy with the weight of the whisky in his system, and really, the world was too beautiful for violence right now.

Ray raised his eyebrows. "Raise."

Cloud rolled his eyes.

Reno grinned. "Call  _that_."

Cloud lost. Why, oh why did he have to be surrounded by so many porn-stars? He considered escaping to the bathroom, but it seemed Jared had anticipated that, and suddenly Cloud was pinned to his bed by the lecherous blond while Ray yanked his tee off. He struggled ineffectually – alcohol making him find the situation hilarious for some reason – and couldn't resist laughing when Jared took the opportunity to tickle his sides. Reno was egging them on, and Ralph was calling for a camera. Brian was giggling slightly from his hiding place in the corner – the  _traitor_  – and then suddenly Cloud's shirt was off and there were cat calls and wolf-whistles. He blushed – or was it the alcohol that was making him flush? – and Ray winked, slipping some gil into the waistband of his sweatpants and grinning like a maniac.

"Only twenty gil?" The somber side of Cloud was aghast at his behavior – he was behaving like a damned  _hussy_  – but he ignored it in favor of just having  _fun_ and being a boy for once in his life.

Ralph laughed, digging around his pockets and coming up with five gil – cheap bastard – getting Jared to stuff it into Cloud's pants for him because he couldn't be bothered moving from his spot on the floor. Jared was only too happy to oblige, and Cloud was pretty sure the other blond copped a feel while he was at it – he couldn't really tell, his skin was a little numb from the liquor and warm from all the attention. He was a little self-conscious, even this tipsy, but he managed not to look down at himself or clasp his hands in front of his chest like one of those silly girls in the cartoons Denzel watched sometimes – and given the way everyone was pretty much leering at him he supposed he wasn't  _that_ bad looking. Jared leered at everyone, so his opinion didn't count.

They started another round, Cloud doing his best to focus, Jared doing his best to distract him, and Ray doing his best to get him drunk – they weren't playing fair, the cheeky bastards. He didn't lose, thank God, and Reno made a huge production out of taking off his shirt – standing up on his bed –  _how_  the other boy managed not to wobble after all the whisky he'd drunk was beyond Cloud – and doing a little dance that was more hip-gyration than anything. Cloud was glad he still had his pants on.

The madness raged on – Brian and Grant and some of the other cadets down to just their skivvies within an hour – and soon it was only Cloud, Reno, and Ray who still had their pants on. Cloud chanced a glance at the red-head then, and Reno quickly announced that they would play drinking games from now on. Cloud wondered again at the red-head's apparent reluctance to allow anyone else to see him unclothed – then just shrugged it off. He had more important things to think about now – such as whether they should play 'I have never' or alcoholic poker.

'I have never' won hands down – most cadets were too blind to deal with cards.

Cloud had never played this game before, had never actually heard of it until Reno announced it. After a very drunken explanation of the rules by Ralph, they started. And instantly Cloud wished he'd never agreed to this game – he  _really_  didn't need to know about Grant's fetishes.

Reno was cracking up.

Luckily for Cloud, the others were pretty deep in their cups by the time his turn came around, and he managed to pass off a repeat statement. Ray had stopped stuffing him full of whisky – it seemed the brunette's intention had simply been to get Cloud to loosen up – so pretty soon it was Cloud, Reno, Ray, Ralph, and Jared sipping their drinks in the corner and just listening to the outlandish declarations of the others.

Cloud doubted Brian had lost his virginity yet – the kid had probably just decided to drink every round.

He pulled his shirt back on, simply because he wasn't comfortable showing much skin, and the five of them played a lazy game of poker until Jared, nympho that he was, declared that the winner of each round would get to kiss whoever he liked. Did the kid  _ever_ think about anything other than sex? Cloud was beginning to wonder how the other blond had passed the SOLDIER quals before.

Ray won the first round, and Cloud wondered if he should start running – but before he could make up his mind or get his body to cooperate he was yanked forward and his mouth was filled with a  _very_ talented tongue.

_Damn._

Ray was  _good._

They were parted forcibly by Reno and Ralph, who rolled their eyes at the two slightly breathless cadets and reminded them that it was a  _kiss_ that the victor got – not face-eating or making out. Jared the Voyeur just looked like Christmas had come early.

They continued on until midnight – by which time Cloud considered himself a very experienced kisser indeed. But all the osculation was just bringing their hormones to fore, and Jared had whispered something to Reno which Cloud didn't manage to overhear but which had the red-head nodding. He supposed it was alright, whatever it was, because it wasn't like any of them were in relationships, and they were all mature enough to not make a big deal out of anything. But even this intoxicated Cloud didn't know if he'd be comfortable enough with any other cadet – Reno was a familiar face in a new old life, and Cloud felt secure in knowing more about the red-head than Reno himself knew. He didn't think that Ray or Ralph or Jared would hurt him – but somehow it was still an intimate enough act, even if there were no emotions involved, and Cloud had always been a private man.

In the end Jared just grabbed Ray and Ralph, hauling them off the bed and heading off somewhere. Cloud raised his eyebrows at the three cadets, but didn't say anything. The rest of the bunker was out cold – softies – so Cloud and Reno just got up and headed to the bathroom. It was party time.

When they finally stumbled back to their bunks, Cloud half-dragged by Reno because he  _really_ couldn't feel anything below his shoulder blades, Jared and the others still hadn't returned yet. Cloud would have been amused if he could muster up the energy, but the minute Reno deposited him on his bunk, he lay back and fell asleep, dimly aware that Reno was pulling the covers up over him in a very unnatural gesture of kindness.

_First time for everything._

The next morning, the cadets stumbled out of bed blearily. Cloud was glad his internal clock had woken him up four hours after he'd gotten back from his little tryst with Reno – the way some of his bunkmates were behaving, he doubted the bathrooms were going to be a pleasant place to be for the next few hours.

He stretched a little and winced, changing his position on the bed. He was  _sore_ , but in a good way. Cloud admitted he liked it rough, had never had it anything but, and a part of him whispered that it was because he was saving the tenderness for a  _certain someone_. He scowled.

_Quit thinking about him._

Except it was hard not to – not when every other cadet was in the bathroom and he was alone here with the morning sun on his back. He wondered where the General was, how he'd spent his night – then slapped himself mentally. It didn't matter – why  _should_  it matter – they hadn't spoken to each other yet,  _he_ didn't know Cloud yet.

 _And he probably never will_ , he thought viciously.

He was rescued from himself by the return of Reno and Ray, who were both yawning incessantly and looking very smugly satisfied with themselves. Cloud supposed he should kick Reno, but his body hurt and he was pretty sure he was wearing one of those cat-got-the-cream expressions himself. Reno displayed that unusual thoughtfulness again, loping an arm around Cloud's shoulders in an attempt to disguise the fact that he was helping to support the smaller blond. Judging by Ray's smirk the disguise didn't work too well.

They ate their breakfast in silence, and even when the others joined them no one spoke for a long while. Brian looked sick to his stomach at the sight of food, and Jared was smiling vapidly at nothing in particular.

_Someone had a good night._

Cloud would have grinned if he wasn't so used to squirreling his emotions away into tiny little nooks and crannies in his mind that no one else could get to. He ate quickly, grateful for the quiet, and then slowly sipped at a cup of coffee while he waited for the others to finish their breakfasts. He wondered if they were heading under the plate today. He couldn't really remember who'd won the right to decide on the itinerary, but he hoped it wasn't him. He hadn't the slightest clue as to what teenaged boys did when they were together – apart from drinking, fighting, and boinking.

"Wall-Market?" Ralph suddenly mumbled, drawing Jared out of his X-rated reverie.

Reno nodded. "Wall-Market."

Cloud still couldn't figure out who had won last night's game, but he supposed it didn't matter.

They cleared their trays and headed off, Brian looking like he just wanted to back out and spend the day with his new best friend The Commode. Cloud wondered if he should suggest the Kalm cadet do just that, but then Jared started his daily ritual and Brian started to look more like himself – albeit a paler, queasier version. The six of them got to the station, buying their tickets and waiting for the train, Reno still keeping an arm around Cloud's shoulders. Cloud wondered how Jared was managing to walk so normally – he assumed the other blond had been the catcher as well – and debated asking for some tips on how to ease the ache. He quickly shoved that thought out of his head – what the hell was he  _thinking_?

On the train Brian sat himself in a corner and just slumped against the wall, looking like the unsteady motions of their metal carriage were aggravating his condition. Cloud hung back just in case, taking a seat on the other side and wincing slightly as he sat down. Reno smirked at that, but Cloud just ignored him in favor of looking out at the changing scenery as they progressed. No one was feeling very talkative, although Jared was half-heartedly attempting to upset Brian's delicate sensibilities, and Ray and Ralph had claimed two rows of seats – stretching themselves out and looking for all the world like they owned the place. Cloud didn't doubt that Ray's allowance alone was enough to buy the entire train and have change left over for purchase of a station. The kid was Loaded.

The slums were still relatively quiet – it being before noon on a Saturday and most people recovering from Friday night's activities. Cloud was grateful for that, because he'd always hated noisy, crowded places. It drowned him out, dwarfed him in a sea of selfishness, and smothered him with its self-absorbed impatience. He had never felt at home in social situations, and he was a little glad for the others around him. Glad and nervous – because he honestly had no idea how he should behave or act right now. What  _did_  teenagers dowhen they went out in a group?

For now they were just wandering aimlessly, meandering towards Wall-Market. Ralph was looking around, his nose wrinkling at the smell, and Cloud wondered if he should warn the other cadet about the perils of showing that he wasn't a local, even if they had all dressed simply enough to blend in. Jared beat him to it though, slinging an arm around Ralph's shoulders and coming deftly in between the black-haired boy and an early-rising pick-pocket. Cloud couldn't remember where Jared was from, but he supposed the other cadet had probably ventured under the plate before, if the way he was behaving was any indication. Brian was sticking close to Cloud, with Ray in between him and the rest of the slums, but it seemed the Kalm kid had never been under the plate before either. His eyes were wide and roving, his nose wrinkled at the olfactory evidence of poverty, and he looked green in the face. It couldn't have been very pleasant for someone so obviously suffering from a hangover, and Cloud felt a little sorry for the other boy. He was clearly pushing himself to deal with it so that he could hang out with them, and Cloud resolved to be nicer to the brown-eyed recruit for that. It was nice to have friends who ignored their own maladies in favor of spending time with you.

When they reached Wall-Market the million-gil question was raised.

"What do you guys wanna do?" Ray asked, looking at Cloud and Reno. Cloud just shrugged, glancing around. He hadn't really taken a good look the last two times he'd been here – the first time because he'd been intent on getting to Aeris, and the second time because he had been shagged out of his mind and content to just follow Reno's lead.

"You guys got anything in particular you wanna get?" Reno was looking up the street, towards where Cloud remembered Mike's joint was.

Ralph shrugged, still looking sleepy. "Was thinking of getting a knife or something, actually." He yawned loudly.

"A knife?" Brian looked worried. "But cadets aren't  _allowed_ to have weapons. You'll get in trouble."

Reno rolled his eyes at the law-abiding citizen, turning to Ralph. "You could've just asked  _me,_  y'know." The red-head looked a little put out. Ralph snorted.

"And paid through my ass. I  _know_  you charge a helluva margin."

Reno just smirked at him. "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. It's business, Vikers. Nothing personal."

"And what did Cloudy pay?" Ray was giving Cloud and Reno a knowing look, waggling his eyebrows. Cloud considered just sticking him with his butterfly knife – it wanted to see the world, not die of old age in its sheath under his clothes.

"What?! Cloud's got a concealed weapon?" Brian turned to him, eyes wide. Cloud reminded himself about his earlier resolution to be nicer to the kid, even though he wanted to smack him upside the head for shrieking so loudly in the middle of the street.

Jared grinned. "Well, anyone can tell he isn't  _always_  happy to see us." He winked, looking pointedly at Cloud's front pockets.

Cloud was surprised. He hadn't known he'd been that obvious, although considering that the cadets were together 24/7 he supposed they would have noticed something. He didn't exactly have many places to hide a knife on his person, given that five days a week they were dressed in fatigues and sweat-drenched tees.

_You think you're the only one who's any good with knives?_

He wasn't giving the others enough credit, he realized. He'd been thinking that he was the only one around with experience in battle, experience with weapons, when he should have figured out that the seamless harmony of his team in Battle Sims was due mostly to his team-mates' abilities and not his leadership. He kicked himself mentally.

_You REALLY think you're all that, don't you? Fucking idiot._

"That's the second time today he's gone cloudy." Ray grinned. Cloud couldn't hold back the amused little half-smile that escaped him – they were tallying his zoning out moments now? Inwardly he was grateful for the others – they were distracting him from his more depressing thoughts, shielding him from his self-loathing, and he wished there was something he could do to make them realize how much he appreciated it.

_All you gotta do is save the world. Again._

He dragged himself back to the present. Reno was nodding. "Cool, this way. But don't think I ain't getting something out of the deal."

They continued then, coming to the filthy alleyway and ducking into the hole in the wall. Mike was in his usual seat, and Cloud wondered if the man spent all his time just sitting on that upturned crate waiting for customers. Didn't he  _eat?_

Reno introduced everyone, and Cloud was a little surprised that Mike remembered him without prompting. He nodded at the man, noting with amusement how Brian seemed to shrink under the arms-dealer's beady gaze. Jared instantly coddled his favorite victim, grinning at Mike and laying on the charm. It seemed Jared really knew how to work it, if the matching grin on Mike's face was any indication. They went into the back room, and Ralph instantly went ga-ga over the array of weapons laid out so carelessly. Cloud hid a smile, standing back in a corner and just watching the others go nuts. Brian escaped Jared's hold, coming to stand beside Cloud and giving him a reproachful look that the blond wanted to roll his eyes at. The kid was such a  _prude._

_Once upon a time, you were too. Now get off your high horse, idiot._

He listened to Brian's mindless chatter with half an ear, watching as Ray fell in love with an  _urumi_ , or 'whip sword' as it was most commonly called. Cloud himself had tried to master the flexible blade once, liking how it could be coiled tightly and hidden discreetly, but the damned thing was  _nasty_ , and it was only thanks to Hojo's tweaking that the older him hadn't lost an ear - that and he preferred his swords stiff.

_Pervert._

He wondered again how Ray came to be so good with weapons and so handy in a fight. Surely millionaires didn't let their sons wander around getting into street-fights? He didn't really know, considering Ray was from a whole other world – Cloud had grown up the illegitimate son of a single mother, and they were pretty poor – Nibelheim wasn't exactly a Land of Opportunity. He'd always wondered why his mother had chosen to settle there, when she wasn't even from the area.

He'd ask her some day, he decided. While she was alive and still giving him a place to call home.

Jared had opted for brass knuckles – although even from this distance Cloud could see that the raised ends were sharper than usual. It didn't really seem like Jared's weapon of choice, but Cloud supposed they were all just making do until SOLDIER, when they would finally be allowed weapons and specialize in a chosen field. He himself was eager to move on to real swords, eager to feel the familiar weight of First Tsurugi as he hefted the masterpiece in his hands. Fenrir might be his pride and joy, but First Tsurugi was probably the love of his life. He resolutely pushed away the mental image of the  _real_  love of his life, focusing on Brian's chatter and nodding slightly. Reno was haggling with Mike, and Jared was flirting with the man – the arms-dealer didn't last long under the combined pressure of the two insidious cadets, giving in as exaggeratedly as he had the previous week. Cloud bit back a grin.

 _These guys are_ _**good** _ _._

They left after awhile, Reno somehow having more orders that needed to be filled in even though he barely left Cloud's side in camp. Cloud wondered at that. Did the red-head have some sort of secret signal that sent him flying to potential clients in the dead of the night?

He wanted to snort at the mental image of a Reno-signal. It would probably just be a busty babe in a bikini or a Playboy Bunny.

Wall-Market was coming to life when they returned to it – it seemed they'd spent quite some time in Mike's. Cloud remembered his earlier resolution to get a watch of some sort, and he glanced about at the shops and stalls, not seeing anything that struck his fancy and that didn't break the bank. He wasn't being picky – anything cheap was a mangled version of some cartoon character or other, and he wasn't about to go running around cadet training with SailorMoon beaming up at everyone from his wrist, thank you very much. He wondered how the General would look at him if he did.

 _How obsessed can you_ _**get** _ _?_

He was thinking about the General  _way_  too much, and he pulled himself back to reality with an effort. The others were debating what to do now, with Brian in heavy favor of just finding a not-so-smelly place to sit down and chill out and  _talk._  Cloud didn't miss the way Ray, Reno, and Ralph shuddered at that word, and inwardly he smiled.

_Too many clingy girlfriends, huh?_

He'd never had a girlfriend, but he'd come to understand the instinctive need to flee that took over whenever a woman mentioned  _that word._  Every time Tifa said it she was trying to get him to open up and share his burden with her, and he was a little glad that she had finally learned not to bother anymore. It was nice of her to want to listen to him, but he didn't want to talk to anyone but  _him_.

_Oh for the love of God! STOP thinking about him!_

"Cloudy again." Ray and Ralph were grinning at him, and Reno just looked amused. With a jolt he realized that he had missed out on most of the conversation, and he gave them an apologetic look.

"Ralph wants to walk around some more," Ray filled him in. "Brian wants to start a campfire and have a heart-to-heart. What do  _you_  wanna do?"

Cloud was at a loss. He didn't care much either way, because he was just enjoying having friends and hanging out with them – but it would sound very gay if he said that, even if he did bat for the same team – so he looked around, touching his left ear unconsciously. He missed his ear-ring.

"I know a place," Reno was nodding at him, and Cloud realized that he must have spoken aloud. He wondered exactly what he'd said, and he wondered if he'd spoken his thoughts out loud before – it went without saying that he'd have to be careful.

Brian looked scandalized. "Ear-ring? But you're a guy!"

_Last time I checked._

Cloud wondered how he'd ever been as naïve as Brian – he was pretty sure he'd been even more backward than the other cadet, because at least Brian was from Kalm. He was from  _Nibelheim_ , for God's sake. It was Hillbilly Central.

Reno was just rolling his eyes at the innocent cadet. "Which rock did you crawl out from under, Tranton? Didn't you notice the Brigadier General had an ear-ring? Most SOLDIERs do."

Brian was gaping at them, looking like his world had been shaken and stirred and stuffed in a blender – forget martinis; the kid's life was turning into a Margarita.

Jared smiled sweetly at Tranton. "If I get a nipple piercing, you can play with it all you like, dear."

Brian looked like he was going to throw up. Cloud took pity on him – the poor kid was still dealing with a hangover after all – and turned to Reno.

"Where's the place?"

Reno just slung his arm around Cloud's shoulders again and started walking, the others following behind them; Brian sticking close to Ray in an attempt to protect himself from Jared.

"Been thinking of getting my ears re-pierced actually," Reno started conversationally as they walked, deftly side-stepping pick-pockets and other pedestrians. "Took 'em out before I joined training coz I didn't wanna scare the mummy's boys." He looked pointedly back at Brian as he said it. "Some people think only gay pirates get ear-rings."

"Yeah, I think I'll get mine re-pierced too," Ralph piped up. "Thought cadets weren't allowed ear-rings so I took mine out before I came."

"I think you guys would look hot all pierced up," Jared chimed in saccharinely. Cloud just rolled his eyes, smiling slightly. He didn't really remember how or when he'd gotten the piercing before, but he knew he'd gotten it because Zack had had one, and he had been trying to be Zack – rather unsuccessfully, as always.

_Why are you always so depressing?_

Cloud was glad for the light-hearted banter going on around him. It lifted his spirits easily, even though the ever moody side of him simply pointed out that these kids didn't know what was waiting for them at the end of training, didn't know the horrors that every SOLDIER and Turk faced. He pushed it aside. He was going to have  _fun_  with his  _friends_  – it was something he'd always wanted, something he'd always dreamed of, and he'd be  _damned_  before he allowed himself to spend most of the outing in the clouds.

"We're here," Reno announced, stopping before a nondescript store huddled between a pharmacy and a karaoke bar. It didn't look as though there was anyone inside, but Reno just pushed the door open and walked right in so Cloud and the others followed his lead, Brian edging in cautiously as though afraid he would get infected with HIV or some form of STD if he so much as breathed in the scent of the needles. Cloud wanted to shake his head at the paranoia the other boy was displaying, but he supposed that, given Brian's proper upbringing, the kid would've been told horror stories about guys with piercings. He offered the brown-eyed boy a reassuring smile, and was pleased when Brian smiled back, looking less nervous but no less edgy.

"Jazzy?" Reno called, leaning against the counter uncaring of the random memorabilia strewn about the glass top.

"The fuck do you want?" Cloud was surprised when a girl not much older than them stepped out from behind a beaded curtain. He wasn't surprised to see that she was tattooed and pierced, but he hadn't expected someone so young to be running a store on her own.

_Tifa ran Seventh Heaven for awhile before you rocked up._

Yeah, but Tifa was Tifa – she could do almost  _anything_. And Cloud supposed he was a little sexist, not having thought it proper for a girl to be handling men's body art.

The girl – Jazzy – appeared to have recognized Reno, if the warm hug and kiss she gave him was any indication. He introduced the rest of them, and Jazzy came around from behind the counter to welcome them all rather affectionately – Brian had looked a little wary of the strange inked and pierced girl but had given in anyway.

Jazzy looked pleased with having so many pretty young customers in her store, and she said as much, drawing teasing grins from the others and slight blushes from Cloud and Brian.

 _And people say I'm 'cool',_ Cloud thought sardonically. He blushed like a school-girl sometimes, especially when he received honest compliments. Fighting the flush off his face, he offered Jazzy a small smile.

"Oh my God! You're  _way_  too pretty! You should smile more, sweetie!" Jazzy clapped her hands, dark eyes twinkling at him and making his smile warmer despite the 'pretty' comment. Coming from her lips it didn't sound as bad as when Hojo had said it. He shoved the thought out of his mind – he really was too depressing for his own good – and rolled his eyes when Jared said that Cloud was their deflowered flower.  _Pervert._

Jazzy's grin just broadened –  _another_  pervert - and she ushered them into the back of the store, telling them to just plunk themselves wherever while she got her kit. Brian had given the stool in the corner a very long, very distrustful gaze, but sat on it anyway. Ray chatted with Ralph, trying to decide if he should get just one ear pierced or both, and Jared was trying to decide if he should pierce his nipple or his genitalia. Cloud wanted to laugh at the expression on Brian's face.

Reno went first, not even wincing as the gun fired twice, looking a lot more like his older self once the studs were in his reddened ears. Cloud was next, and he could tell the others were slightly surprised when he didn't even flinch as he received a stud to his left ear. He smiled slightly in thanks to Jazzy when she stepped back, and she cooed at him again. He was feeling so much more whole now with a hole in his ear – slowly but surely he was becoming the man he used to be.

Ralph got two studs in his left ear, and Ray opted for a piercing similar to Cloud's. They spent the next few minutes trying to convince Jared that a genital or nipple piercing wasn't a good idea right now – they had obstacle courses and Battle Sims, remember? – and in the end the other blond just got both ears pierced. Cloud kept silent as the others attempted to harass Brian into getting an ear-ring as well, but he was grinning slightly towards the end as Brian's innate stubbornness won out over the haranguing of his bunk-mates.

Ray insisted on paying, saying something about it being a celebration for Battle Sims, and Cloud offered him a quiet "thank you" after a moment's stunned silence. Reno gave the brunette a very long, hard look, but the awkward atmosphere was broken quickly when Jazzy demanded details of Battle Sims, and Reno indulged her - regaling her with a very colorful version of events, interrupted periodically by Ralph and Brian. Cloud got glomped by the dark-skinned girl, and he accepted her compliments with more grace than he had those of the other cadets in training.

Jazzy gave them all antiseptic drops for their fresh piercings as they left, more customers coming into her store and calling her away. Inwardly Cloud was surprised at the number of clients the body artist had – surely those who could afford it were already pierced and tattooed enough? – but he thanked her and allowed himself to be hugged again. She rather reminded him of Barret - albeit a smaller, female version - and he liked her for that.

_New faces in an old life._

"Food." Reno declared as soon as they were out of the store. Cloud's stomach rumbled and he wondered what time it was. It seemed like only minutes had passed since they'd left the barracks – he'd been enjoying himself a lot, despite the bouts of depression that made his mind resemble that of a pregnant woman's. They headed to the hoagie place again - Brian looking like he didn't know if what he was served was beef or meat from the carcass of a dog they'd passed on the way, but seeing the way the others were casually stuffing their faces he started to eat with relish, gradually regaining some of his usual color.

Jared wanted to go  _shopping._

"Seriously, Fontaine, how gay can you get?" Reno had an expression of mild disgust on his face, but the image was spoiled by the grin that he couldn't contain.

Jared just preened. "I make fidelity so much easier for my men."

Cloud shook his head, smiling. He wondered how he'd make a certain someone want him and only him, but before his train of thought could go further he was poked in the side by Ralph asking for his opinion on Jared's planned Extreme Makeover program.

"Huh?" Cloud responded intelligently. "Extreme Makeover?"

Ralph rolled his eyes. "Cloudy again? How the hell do you manage to top the class in theory and kick so much ass, Strife?" He grinned at Cloud to show he was only teasing, and Cloud gave him a small smile in return. "You know, Extreme Makeover – the TV show where they turn ugly ducklings into swans."

Reno snorted. "More like pigs into bacon."

Ralph laughed. Cloud was still confused, but he assumed it was one of those shows that Tifa watched sometimes – where everyone was always sobbing and hugging. He usually ran away the minute they started.

Ray was grinning. "Back home, I'd drink every time someone cried or hugged on the show. You'd get drunk by the second commercial break, I  _swear_."

Reno looked thoughtful. "That's a pretty good idea. We can do that tonight – there's still shitloads of alcohol left, right? Anyone know what's on the telly?"

Cloud wondered why Reno even bothered looking to him for answers when he was the most oblivious of the lot.

"Porn?" Jared supplied hopefully. Cloud snorted into his drink.

"Is that what they're calling propaganda nowadays?" He couldn't resist saying, grinning slightly when the others laughed – he'd actually contributed  _something_  to the conversation that wasn't inane or dumb. It was a major accomplishment in his life – he was learning the Art of Conversation.

"Don't you think Cloud's butt would look good in a nice pair of jeans?" Jared had apparently figured out a way of getting everyone to agree to a shopping spree - use Cloud as a model. Brian was choking on his hoagie but no one was paying attention to the brown-eyed cadet, all their eyes focusing on where Cloud's behind was seated on a rickety plastic chair.

Cloud just raised his eyebrows at the other blond and looked down at himself. He wasn't looking  _too_  shabby, even though this was his only pair of jeans and it was all washed out and worn out. He had never really cared much for casual clothes – in the future he had lived in his gear, never going anywhere in anything different. Tifa had tried to get him civilian clothes a few times – sweaters and jeans and slacks and tees – but he had very gently refused her, claiming that it was too much trouble to clean so many clothes, when in actual fact he liked staying in his usual gear because it was a second skin and because if anyone attacked he'd probably split his jeans doing some of his usual stunts. He wondered how the Triplets would have reacted if he'd ripped his pants while fighting them. Thank God he didn't wear the chocobo boxers anymore.

Reno nodded. "I know a place." It had become his catch-phrase here in the 'hood.

So Cloud's opinion was irrelevant once again. Privately he was amused at that – it seemed they only ever listened to him when it came to classes or when they were in a skirmish. All other times, he was The Blond.

Wall-Market was packed full of people as they attempted to navigate through it in a group, and Cloud was very glad for Reno's arm around his shoulders, glad for whatever reputation the red-head had that kept most pick-pockets away from them. They reached a store, and as they entered Reno was hailed by the store keeper. Cloud wondered how many people the other cadet knew – he seemed to be The Man here in the slums. Cloud was definitely moving up in the world – even under the plate.

He tried to bat Jared's hands away, but allowed the other blond to drag him around the store when the sleazy look on the proprietor's face unnerved him. Cloud  _really_ didn't like shopping for clothes. He could spend all day in a weapons store, would be happy to be locked in a garage, but  _clothes_? Why did people need so many when having just one type of outfit made everything so much easier to coordinate? Jared was talking colors and styles and how Cloud would need at least two pairs of jeans – a come-fuck-me pair and a go-fuck-yourself pair – Cloud just stared at him.

 _What category are the ones I'm wearing now_?

Reno was just sitting on a chair behind the register, watching Cloud fight off the obscenely tight piece of fabric that Jared was attempting to wheedle him into wearing, and Cloud gave the red-head a pleading look. He needed  _help_  here.

Reno just shook his head, smirking. Bastard.

At length Cloud just grabbed the clothes Ray was holding out to him and ran into the changing rooms, adamantly insisting that  _he was fine, Jared_ , he didn't need any help changing. Jared peeked in anyway, and got a foot to his shins for his concern.

He dressed quickly, not trusting Jared not to just rip the curtains back and jump in. Chancing a glance at the mirror, he raised his eyebrows. Ray had good taste. Cloud himself had never really liked how he looked in civilian clothes, had always felt so vulnerable and exposed and  _young_  in anything other than his gear, but he had to admit he looked pretty good. He wondered if this would help make fidelity easier for  _him_.

Jared yanked the curtain back – the pervert – and Cloud had to endure a very long, very leering look-over from the other blond. He glanced at the others, Ray was trying to stuff Brian into an obnoxious button shirt in the del Sol style – all flowery prints and garish colors, but the brunette stopped harassing the other cadet when Cloud was yanked out of the changing rooms by Jared, who was wearing an outfit that looked like it had been poured onto him.

Reno whistled appreciatively and Cloud turned bright red. He was such a  _girl_.

"Nice  _work_ , Johnson." Ralph slapped Ray on the back. The black-haired cadet was strutting around the store in just a very slinky pair of jeans that rode dangerously low on his hips. Cloud had never realized how well-defined the other boy was – he had  _abs_.

"We're taking it," Ray announced loudly, startling the store-keeper out of his undoubtedly lecherous thoughts. Then Cloud was shoved back into the changing room and Ralph and Jared were flinging more clothes over for him to try on.

 _Extreme Makeover_.

"I'm not wearing  _pink_!" Cloud scowled, throwing a corset-looking thing back over the curtain.

"OK!" Jared's hand appeared around the curtain with a black version. Cloud aimed a kick at where he assumed the other boy's legs were. What kind of place  _was_  this?

_Freakin' CIRCUS._

Still, he had to admit he was having a good time, even though it involved clothes. Cloud had never really gone shopping before – back in Nibelheim his mother would periodically bring home some new pieces or make them for him, and in the future Tifa would just randomly try to give him outfits. Now that he thought about it, he really  _had_  missed out on so much growing up, and it was slightly bittersweet being here.

Reno had decided to join the parade, wearing a pair of tight black pants and a white shirt that made him look so much like the Turk he would become that Cloud just stared. Reno took it as a compliment, winking at him and doing a little twirl. The twit. Even Brian had been coerced into donning a pair of ripped jeans and a tee that was proclaiming something obscene, complete with pictures. Cloud snorted, and Jared just groped the brown-eyed cadet.

By the time they paid for their purchases – Ray again footing the bill despite Cloud's protests and Reno's glaring – Cloud was  _exhausted_. He was beginning to understand how girls stayed so slim – pulling on and taking off clothing after clothing was a  _very_  strenuous activity. Jared just gave the brunette a sloppy kiss for being such a sweet sugar-daddy.

They wandered back to the station, Cloud listening to the others chatting away happily. They were saying something about a club and dancing – Cloud wondered at that. Weren't clubs more of sit-down societies where people shared a common interest? He hadn't been aware of any dancing clubs in camp, but was glad he didn't voice his ignorance when Brian was mercilessly insulted for voicing his.

When they got back to the barracks Jared wanted to start a fashion show. Cloud glared at him – he was a  _fighter_ , not a human hanger – so the other blond just contented himself with telling everyone how absolutely  _gorgeous_  Cloud looked in his new clothes, and how they'd all missed out by languishing in their bunks trying to get over their hangovers. Cloud let the other cadet have his revenge, glad that their bunkmates weren't fool enough to try to get him to put on his new outfits and parade around the place. Ray had already started drinking, pulling out several bottles of whisky from his locker and throwing Cloud, Reno and Ralph one each. Jared was trying to find the rum and whining about how it was gone. Grant commented on the ear-rings they were sporting, and Jared launched into how he had wanted to get a genital piercing and how the other meanies thought he wouldn't be able to get on his hands and knees in the mud if he had one. Cloud rolled his eyes. Some of their other bunkmates had taken to the idea of group-piercings – why was everyone so  _dodgy_? – and there was talk about going under the plate tomorrow to visit Jazzy's store so the rest of them could get ear-rings too.

Reno was turning into a tour-guide.

Someone mentioned how Cloud seemed to be the last person who'd look so good with an ear-ring – he supposed it was a compliment, but he didn't honestly care. He missed his usual piece, and as soon as he could he'd see about getting it made again.

Dinner was hot dogs, and Cloud actually managed to eat three, surprised at how hungry he was. He wondered if he could sneak into the instructors' lounge tonight and steal a watch while everyone else got drunk again – but realized he wouldn't be able to when Reno told everyone about the drinking game they'd be playing tonight in the cadet lounge. Apparently there was some show called 'Biggest Loser' on TV tonight – Cloud wondered how the red-head came to be so familiar with TV shows. The slums didn't exactly get any sort of media communication except for the usual Shinra propaganda, but he remembered that most people under the plate had managed to tap into the signals from above – still, Reno had never come across as the couch potato type, even if he  _was_  a lazy bastard.

Ray was right – it  _was_ possible to get drunk by the second commercial break. Why was everyone crying non-stop?

Eventually the program ended, and some family movie started. Cloud just sat there listening to the others diss the characters and the plot – and then diss Brian for sniffling slightly at some clichéd 'deep moment' - content to sip from his bottle and soak in the comfortable atmosphere. He had never felt this at peace, not even in Seventh Heaven, and he supposed it probably had something to do with the amount of alcohol he'd consumed. Not that he was complaining – he was rather enjoying the carefree feeling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so light – the closest he'd come to it had been when he'd beaten the Triplets and woken up in the church.

He'd visit Aeris tomorrow, he decided. If he could walk. The way Reno was looking at him indicated they'd be spending most of the night in the bathrooms again, not that Cloud was complaining. Weekends were for letting loose, and Cloud was rather glad he had someone to help so readily with his needs here. It certainly made things easier for him – it was uncomplicated, unemotional, safe. He wondered if Reno knew how much he appreciated their straightforward relationship. The red-head was being unnaturally nice to him though – what with the free butterfly knife last week, and the thoughtfulness he'd been displaying – and Cloud wondered what was up with that. He really hoped Reno wasn't starting to  _like_ him or anything – it would mess things up considerably, because Cloud didn't want to make an enemy of the other boy or hurt his feelings, even if Reno was the once-and-future-Turk. Cloud would just have to watch out – he knew Reno didn't do anything for nothing, and this uncommon kindness was a bit suspicious – especially because so few people had given anything freely to Cloud. Even Zack had had a last request in exchange for saving his life.

Cloud kicked himself mentally. How ungrateful could he  _get_? Zack had saved his  _life_ , and here he was whining about how nobody ever gave him something for nothing. What was  _wrong_  with him? He'd become so ridiculously self-centered, thinking the world revolved around him and his misery, and it just wasn't like him. He really needed to get his head on straight. Nibelheim was approaching, slowly but surely, and Cloud needed to figure out how he was going to stop it. He didn't have time to think about how pitiful his life had been – he was  _here_ , wasn't he? He had a chance to start over, a chance to change things, and if the way Zack had been behaving in the infirmary was any indication it seemed they were fumbling their way towards friendship again. Cloud wasn't going to screw that up for anything.

_Anything?_

He ignored the insidious voice in his head, pushing away the mental image of stunning green eyes and a regal bearing, and focused on the talk going on around him. He accepted the bag of chips that Ralph handed to him, a little touched at the other cadet's thoughtfulness, and laughed when Jared balanced a chip on Brian's ear and ate it off him. Poor Brian looked like he was close to tears.

The others stumbled back to their bunks a few hours later, drunk but not as sotted as they'd been the night before. They  _were_  planning to go under the plate as a group tomorrow after all. Cloud just walked off to the bathroom, surprised when Jared, Reno, Ray and Ralph followed his lead. He didn't know how he felt about a group thing – was honestly a bit freaked out – but luckily Reno pulled him into their usual stall and locked the door before Cloud did something stupid. Over the sounds of the shower, Cloud could hear Jared – and it sounded like the other blond was having a  _very_ good time. He had never been a voyeur, never liked watching because he was a private person who didn't like being watched himself, but he had to admit that the sounds were a definite turn-on. It seemed Reno had been expecting that, if his rough treatment and hasty preparation was any indication.

The pitchers were having an inter-stall competition. Cloud would have rolled his eyes if they weren't already rolled back in pleasure as all coherent thought was being shagged out of his mind.

Later, Ray had to help Reno support Cloud back to the bunks - the blond would have been mortified if he wasn't feeling so numbed. His mind was blank, free from his usual depressing thoughts, and the whiny voice in his head was apparently suffering from the same hoarseness of throat that Cloud himself was. He liked this empty serenity, and thanked Reno and Ray quietly as they settled him onto his bunk. He didn't wince, but then again he couldn't feel anything, as usual, and he lay back with a contented sigh, pulling his covers over himself and mumbling a sleepy "good night" back to the others. Ralph had already joined the snore-chestra.

Cloud dreamt of Fenrir that night. He missed his baby.

##

Sephiroth was standing in his kitchen, sipping at a cup of coffee, when he heard the tell-tale approach of one Brigadier General Zack Fair – because no one else would be able to access his penthouse so freely, and especially not on a Sunday morning. A few seconds later, the elevator dinged, and Zack wandered into the luxurious home, looking exhausted but satisfied. Sephiroth didn't need to ask.

He nodded to the First when he was greeted with a sleepy "mornin'", but tilted his head to the side slightly in query. Zack was never here this early – would usually only appear later in the evening with some DVDs and popcorn – which meant he hadn't slept yet (Sephiroth was sure Zack had already gone to bed, but there was definitely no rest for the wicked  _there_ ). The dark-haired SOLDIER just sighed, pouring himself a cup of sugar and adding coffee to it. He was lucky Mako was said to prevent diabetes.

Sephiroth just steeled himself for the inevitable sugar-rush.

He glanced at the clock on the wall and started counting.

"I saw Cloud heading out with his friends," Zack grinned. "He looked  _good._ "

_Three seconds slower than last time. His tolerance is rising._

He wondered what would happen if Zack went cold-turkey. One day if he was curious or bored enough he might just run all over Midgar and obliterate every packet and every grain of the stuff just to see the effect it'd have on Zack.

"It looks like he's got plenty of friends now, you know?" Zack helped himself to a second cup of sugar and coffee. Sephiroth wondered why he kept any of the sweet stuff in his kitchen when he didn't actually use it, but then again he didn't buy his own groceries; it was all handled by Shinra.

He wondered why Zack was telling him about Strife. Bad enough he'd dreamt of the cadet again last night and the night before – he didn't need to hear the boy's name when he was awake. But if he said anything, if he asked Zack not to speak of the cadet, then the First would know that something was up and then Sephiroth would be in Big Trouble.

"He's got an ear-ring now," Zack said, sipping slowly and watching him intently. Sephiroth wondered why – it wasn't like he had an ear-ring fetish. Although for a split-second there he'd wondered how Strife would look with an ear-ring.

_He'd look good._

Sephiroth was very glad for his world-famous control. He didn't know what he would have done or said otherwise. Why was he thinking like this about a cadet? For that matter, why was he even thinking about a cadet at all?

_Because Zack won't shut up about him._

He resolutely ignored the voice in his head that screamed 'denial'. He was only twenty-five and male; and Mako kicked libidos into over-drive – it wasn't as though he actually  _felt_  anything for the boy, but only a blind man wouldn't have found the small blond arresting.

Sephiroth turned and walked toward the living room, listening to the sounds of Zack rifling through his refrigerator and smirking slightly when the First started grumbling about how there was nothing unhealthy in there. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and Sephiroth didn't appreciate being reminded of the cadet every time he saw Zack.

He frowned at that.

That was it – the cadet, Strife, bore an uncanny resemblance to Zack. Not by way of personality, no, they were poles apart there, but in the way the blond moved and fought. True, Strife changed his combat style to match his opponents, but there was an undercurrent still, an underlying personal style that was distinctively Strife's – and which resembled Zack's rather strongly. Sephiroth wondered at that. Zack would not have trained the cadet personally without his permission – the man was as irreverent and irresponsible as they came but he would never go behind Sephiroth's back like that – so how had Strife suddenly acquired a style so similar to Zack's? It might even have something to do with this jump in improvement, because Zack was capable and quite talented, and if Strife was manifesting or developing or copying Zack's traits then it would explain quite a lot. Except for one thing – how and when had Strife suddenly gained this Zack-ability?

He really wished he could just order the cadet into his office and interrogate him.

He sat himself on the sofa and debated turning the TV on, but he didn't want to see more Shinra propaganda, and if he started watching CSI now he'd never make it to the office today.

It wasn't like the TV could help him tune Zack out anyway.

Zack joined him eventually with a plate laden with buttered toast. The First simply threw himself onto the sofa, stretching his legs out and dirtying the pristine material with his shoes. Sephiroth ignored him.

"I was gonna talk to him today." Zack was munching rather loudly and getting crumbs everywhere, but Sephiroth pretended not to notice. He didn't have to clean his own place anyway; there were perks to being General. "But I think I'll wait till tomorrow or something. Let him have fun with his friends." Out of the corner of his eye Sephiroth could see Zack was looking at him. He kept his face carefully blank as he sipped quietly at his rapidly cooling coffee.

"He's pretty tight with that red-head, Reno." Zack was watching him intently now, if that deliberately even tone of voice was any indication. Sephiroth just continued staring at his coffee.

"I think they're sleeping together." That information, combined with the casual way it was delivered, had Sephiroth's eyebrow rising slightly. Why would Zack think he'd care about something like that? It wasn't as though he was going to court-martial them or punish them for under-aged sex – not when he himself had indulged in it as a teenager. Males had needs, and that was that.

_And all red-heads have NEEDS._

He resisted the urge to frown slightly at another explanation for Zack's behavior. Was the First actually trying to get him to think of the cadet  _that_ way? It would certainly explain the incessant Strife-talk, and the mentions of the blond's looks and friends and sex-life. But why would Zack think that Sephiroth would be interested in the cadet? He was sure he hadn't given anything away, had deliberately ignored Zack most of the time whenever the First spoke about Strife, had kept his opinions and observations strictly professional.

Then it hit him and he nearly groaned.

This was all part of Zack's stupid plan to make him happy.

_Zachary, you idiot._

For some reason his Brigadier General had decided that Strife would be a good candidate for his Grand Plan. It certainly explained the blond-haired blue-eyed SOLDIERs and army grunts that the First kept introducing to Sephiroth. Zack had long ago stopped trying to get him to date before bedding – the General would usually just get annoyed with the insipidity of his partners and call the whole thing off. Sephiroth preferred it this way – uncomplicated, easy, and emotionless. He neither wanted nor needed a more permanent partner – he didn't have time for all the niceties of relationships, not with his work that either shackled him to his desk or took him out to the field for extended periods of time. He wasn't concerned about not being able to provide for anyone – he was The General after all – and he wasn't concerned about his partner suffering in the event of his untimely death – he was The General after all, and if he  _did_  die on a mission his sizeable estate would go to whoever he'd named anyway – but he just wasn't interested in pursuing something like that. It was too much of a headache, too much to think about, too many variables that he wasn't trained to handle, too much Technicolor when Sephiroth preferred things black and white. 99% of the time he was The Man, 1% of the time he was A Man, and that was that. Nice and easy.

"I thought we might train tomorrow."

Sephiroth hid a smirk as Zack tensed imperceptibly at that announcement. He knew it wouldn't stop the First's asinine machinations, but at least Sephiroth would have ample reason to beat him to a pulp In The Name of Training.

_Boom._

##

Cloud managed to sneak away as the group was approaching Jazzy's shop, Jared having started up again with the nipple piercing and Grant and some cadets from another bunker trying to decide if they should get themselves inked as well. It was a large group, large enough to turn heads everywhere they went, and Cloud was able to get away easily in the commotion, get lost in the crowd of Wall-Market and head quickly to the church. He knew he didn't have very long, but he really wanted to see Aeris.

He half-jogged to the church, proud that his private training was paying off when he reached the familiar doors without breathing any faster than normal. He didn't stop to think, didn't stop to debate with himself as he had the last time, just pushing the door open and walking straight towards the flower-bed.

She was kneeling among the lilies, looking like an angel in God's garden, and Cloud just wanted to sink to his knees in silence. He'd really missed her.

She turned to look at him, that brilliant smile making her eyes dance as she rose, arms outstretched as she neared him and he just hugged her, letting her kiss him on the cheek and just taking in the scent of her life and her love.

_I missed you._

At length she pulled back slightly, sweet smile still in place even as she admonished him for not coming to see her last week. He smiled weakly at that but didn't explain or excuse himself, simply saying that he'd do better from now on. Aeris just laughed and said he needed to lighten up.

He'd really, really missed her.

They sat themselves on a nearby pew, and Cloud was content to just sit there with her and bask in the warmth of her attention forever, but he remembered that he didn't have much time, that there were almost two bunkers of cadets in Wall-Market who would realize he was missing and probably come looking for him soon, so he forced himself to talk.

"Is Reno from the future too?"

Aeris looked thrown, if the confused look in her eyes and the way she cocked her head was any indication.

_Guess that's a 'no' then._

He shook his head, silently telling her that it had been a dumb question that didn't deserve an answer. She just gave him that motherly, amused smile that had always been in her voice whenever she spoke to his heart.

"Do the others know?" This had been weighing on him for awhile, and, even though he probably wouldn't like the answer, he went ahead and asked anyway. "Tifa, Barret, Cid, Reeve, Vincent. Do they know?"

Aeris held his eyes for one very long moment before she nodded. He sank back marginally, breath he hadn't known he was holding leaving him in one long gush that made her hair flit slightly. He didn't know how he felt about that, didn't know why he'd even asked, didn't know why he wanted to know. It shouldn't matter anyway – he was here, and he was going to change things.

A gentle hand on his cheek brought him back to the present, and he looked at her. Her green eyes were worried and loving, her face in that familiar concerned expression, and he tried to force a smile for her benefit, just because angels shouldn't be anything but happy. He could tell from the look on her face that it wasn't successful.

"Things are going well for you?" Her voice held a tinge of worry, and he hastened to reassure her.

"They're going great," he said firmly. "I've got people to hang out with now, and some of the guys made me CO during Battle Simulation." Then he thought of something that might cheer her up. "We won, you know? Beat eight SOLDIER Thirds and a bunch of other cadets, and not one of my team got hit."

She smiled proudly, eyes shining brilliantly at him, and that invincible feeling from Friday morning came back. He felt unstoppable, omnipotent here in this world that was just him and Aeris and her flowers in an old church. He wished he didn't have to leave her, but he had to make this quick in case the others found them. He really didn't want those barbarians anywhere near his princess.

"Zack and I spoke a few times," he was surprised at the slight flash of  _something_  in her eyes at the mention of the SOLDIER's name, but it had been too quick for him to catch. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but something else came out instead. "You haven't met him yet? Here?"

Aeris shook her head, and his heart nearly broke at the slightly lonely expression on her face. He kicked himself mentally. Here he'd been putting himself first, thinking about his own enjoyment and hanging out with his own friends, when she didn't have anyone but her adopted mother and her memories. He was a selfish, selfish bastard, and he suddenly hated himself with a vengeance. He would do better. For her, he would only allow himself to be invincible.

"Back then," she started, startling him out of his self-recrimination, "We met before he was First Class." She smiled wistfully, and his heart clenched. "But here he already is, isn't he?"

She looked so small and sad then, so much like the little girl she physically was that he reacted instinctively, reaching out and pulling her close to him in a gruff hug, awkwardly running a hand up and down her back in an attempt to comfort her. It seemed to be working, because she relaxed and hugged him back, tucking her face in the crook of his neck as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

She smelled like love, hope, and faith.

He didn't want to pull away, didn't want to have to go, but she seemed to sense his urgency and she drew back, standing up. He stood with her, because he didn't want to let go as long as he could help it, and he hated himself for choosing his friends over a woman who loved him unconditionally yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

She seemed to sense that as well, because she just smiled again, twining her arms around his neck and giving him another one of those beautiful hugs that he would never take for granted again.

"Go, Cloud," her voice was muffled slightly by his neck. "Have fun. You're only fifteen, and it's Sunday. You can be the man you really are later, you can worry about Sephiroth and Zack and me  _later_ ; but for now, do me a favor?" She leaned back, eyes gentle and teasing, and he smiled. He would do anything for her, and she knew it. "Live, laugh, love, and learn."

His brow furrowed slightly at that – did she always have to speak like a sage? – but then he remembered that she was a Cetra after all, and they had a reputation to maintain. He nodded, smiling because she was giving him one of those dazzling beams meant to befuddle everyone so she could get her way. She really was too sneaky sometimes. He wondered if she'd gotten it from Zack, after all the time they'd spent together in the Lifestream watching him.

The thought was sobering.

"I just," his voice wavered embarrassingly, "I just don't want to see you hurt."  _Again._

She rolled her eyes at him in exasperation, but her voice was smiling even as she attempted to reproach him. "Cloud Strife, I  _swear_  you are the most difficult man on the Planet – and I've known plenty of difficult men in the Lifestream."

_Did that mean..?_

He wanted to say it, wanted to voice his question, but his throat had decided not to cooperate.

_Aeris knew Sephiroth?_

She seemed to know what he was thinking, and he wondered if it was because he was wearing his heart on his sleeve and his dreams on his face.

"Yes, I've spoken to him." Her eyes never left his. "I just feel so sorry for him." She sighed, and the action reminded him that he wasn't breathing. He forced himself to expel the breath he'd been holding and inhale, almost seeing stars after such prolonged abstinence from air.

"Cloud." Her hands tightened slightly, eyes gazing intently into his, and she seemed to be willing him to agree with her. "Don't let history repeat itself."

He nodded. That went without saying.

Her hold relaxed, and the tension left her shoulders as she smiled up at him again.

"Have you spoken to him?" Her eyes were curious now, the eyes of a teasing sister wanting to know about a brother's attempts at a relationship with the love of his life, and he flushed slightly, mumbling a response that he hoped sounded like a 'no'. Sister or no, it was  _embarrassing_.

She shook her head in mock-disappointment, grinning at him playfully and making him smile back at her even though he wished she would change the topic. Aeris could get away with murder as far as he was concerned - she was too perfect to refuse.

"Cloud, if you don't tell him your feelings, how will he ever know?" She laughed at his mortified expression, and he wished the little garden of flowers would become the little lake so he could just sink into it and hide. But then that would just remind him of the future, and the Triplets, and killing Sephiroth twice. He kicked himself mentally.

_Quit being so damned depressing._

"Cloud," Aeris was giving him  _that_  look again, "You have another chance now." The smile disappeared. "Don't hold back. I don't want to watch you suffer again." Her eyes were serious, sad, pained. He  _never_  wanted to see that expression on her face.

"I won't mess up, Aeris," he hastened to reassure her,  _anything_  to make her smile again. "I won't let you down again." Instantly he knew it had been a mistake to say that, because she frowned at him, lips tightening.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I never blamed you?" She was  _glaring_  at him.  _Glaring_. At him. He wanted to shoot himself.

As it was he just hung his head in shame. He knew better than to bring  _that_  up with her, because it only upset the two of them.

 _Stupid, STUPID, tactless idiot_.

Aeris huffed, warm breath ghosting over his face and making him ache with this further proof of his second chance.

"You big baby." There was only fondness in her tone, and the touch of her hand on his head was gentle. "All you SOLDIERs think you have to take care of everyone, don't you?" He could hear laughter in her voice, and he raised his head to look at her, because he didn't ever want to be able to forget the curve of her lips or the shadow of thick eye-lashes on high cheekbones as she smiled.

"Well, now that you're back here in the past, maybe you  _can_  take care of everyone." Her teasing smile was back, but her eyes and her voice were so full of pride that his heart swelled. All his accomplishments in the future, all the times he'd killed to save the world, all of it meant  _nothing_  without the acknowledgment of the three people he cared for most, the three that had died thanks to him: one for him, one because he'd been too weak, and one he'd killed himself. Twice.

"There you are."

Cloud whirled around quickly, placing himself in between Aeris and that familiar voice, one hand automatically reaching for First Tsurugi - finding nothing but air in place of his beloved sword and remembering that he was in the past, and Reno was just a fellow cadet. He cursed himself though – his instinctive reaction had not gone unnoticed by Reno, who was leaning casually against the frame of the church doors.

He wondered how long the red-head had been standing there.

_How much did he hear?_

Fear seized him, and he tensed imperceptibly, readying himself for battle should he need to silence the other boy. He couldn't let anyone know – he'd kill if he had to, friendship be damned. He wasn't going to let this second chance be taken away from him by a nosy bunkmate.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was cold even to his ears, and he subtly pushed Aeris back but she stubbornly refused to move, placing a delicate hand on his left bicep in her usual way.

_Ancients._

Reno just raised an eyebrow, sauntering in jauntily. He stopped several feet away though, out of Cloud's immediate reach.

_Once a Turk, always a Turk._

"I told the others to save us seats at lunch," Reno finally replied. His tone was casual, but Cloud could see the red-head was prepared for a fight, if the way he'd shifted his weight was any indication. "Came looking for you as soon as I could coz you'd disappeared without telling anyone where you were going."

Reno's eyes were giving nothing away, and Cloud wished Aeris would just do as he wanted,  _for once in their lives_ , and back away so he could beat an answer out of the other cadet. But she clung to him resolutely, telling him in her subtle way that Reno was not the enemy, that he meant them no harm, and he wished he had her faith in humanity.

At length Reno looked over Cloud's shoulder and smiled disarmingly.

"I'm Reno, by the way. I'm Cloud's bunkmate in the cadet program." His smile widened when Aeris stepped out from behind Cloud, approaching him with her hand out-stretched and ready smile on her own lips.

_No! It's too dangerous, Aeris! Remember what happened last time?_

Cloud wanted to scream, wanted to run forward and drag her back, take her someplace safe, somewhere far away from Shinra and Sephiroth and the future Turk, but it would be too suspicious, especially if Reno hadn't heard anything incriminating and had really just come to get him for lunch.

"I'm Aeris," she smiled sweetly at the other boy. "Pleased to meet you, Reno. Cloud's mentioned you, and I'm glad he's got such good friends."

Reno raised an eyebrow at that, looking past her to where Cloud was still standing motionless but ready to move in a heartbeat.

Aeris turned back to Cloud. "I shouldn't keep you. I'll see you soon?" She cocked her head and smiled, as gentle and unassuming as ever except for The Look in her eyes. Cloud nodded stiffly, moving forward to kiss her on both cheeks before grabbing Reno's arm and hauling him out of there. The red-head turned as they were leaving to call a jaunty good-bye to Aeris and she replied laughingly. Cloud wanted to hurt somebody.

As soon as they were out of ear-shot, Reno yanked his arm away, turning to Cloud.

"Who's she?" There was something in the red-head's eyes, some sort of hidden knowledge that Cloud wasn't privy to that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. How much did Reno know?

"She's like a sister to me," Cloud replied at last, lifting his chin challengingly.

_Throw-down._

Reno held his eyes for one very long moment, searching for something, though what it was Cloud didn't know.

"All your family under Turk surveillance?"

_What?!_

Cloud's eyes widened and he spun around, searching the area but seeing nothing but the usual rubble and filth. Turk surveillance? On Aeris? But that meant that Shinra knew about her, knew where to find her, so why was she still free in the slums? Why wasn't she locked up in the lab?

He couldn't find anyone, couldn't spot the dark suit or glint of shades, and he turned back to glare at Reno.

_Is this a joke?_

"Explain," Cloud said dangerously. Heaven help the red-head if he'd been playing a prank on Cloud. When it came to Aeris, there were  _limits_.

Reno was looking at him oddly, as though he didn't quite believe that Cloud hadn't known but unable to refute the proof of the blond's ignorance. At length the red-head nodded, stepping back slightly so that they weren't in each others' faces.

"I've seen them around, watching her," Reno answered, the tension leaving his body in a subtle gesture meant to placate Cloud, but the blond didn't bite. "They've never approached her, far as I can tell, so I think she's just being watched by Shinra."

_She's the last Cetra after all._

Cloud frowned slightly at that. An image of a brown-haired woman wielding a crimson shuriken had suddenly popped into mind, but the only shuriken wielder he knew was Yuffie, and she had black hair.

Who was that other woman then? Was it someone Zack knew? Didn't that mean that Zack knew Aeris was a Cetra? So why hadn't he said anything to Sephiroth – who'd believed himself to be an Ancient when he'd first found Jenova? Why hadn't Shinra corrected their assumption about Jenova, if they knew that Aeris was a true Cetra?

Reno was still looking at him oddly. "You really didn't know?"

Cloud shook his head, too stunned by this sudden revelation to do anything more. He supposed, given how quickly the Turks had taken Aeris before, it made sense that they had been watching her for awhile before that.

 _Does she know_?

Cloud wondered if Aeris would have told him either way.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was all a bit too much, he mused. Why was everything so bloody complicated? Why couldn't anyone just fucking  _tell_ him what was going on?

Reno slung an arm around his shoulders and Cloud tensed, but the red-head was simply leading him away subtly.

"You should stay away from her," Reno said quietly, green eyes flicking around them in the practiced way Vincent did whenever he thought he was being watched. "It's not good to get tangled up in Shinra business you don't know jack shit about. The Turks aren't like SOLDIER, you know?" At this the red-head gave him a meaningful look, and suddenly Cloud understood.  _Reno was looking out for him_. It was so bizarre, so completely unexpected that Cloud didn't know if he wanted to laugh hysterically or smile with gratitude. He settled for just nodding his head and it seemed to satisfy Reno a bit, because the red-head grinned at him, eyes lighting up with mischief, and Cloud wondered if he should start running. "So, you sneaky SOB, you've been hiding a babe from the rest of us, huh?" He ruffled Cloud's hair as he said it, and Reno was lucky Cloud was still reeling from everything that had happened – the red-head would be in serious  _pain_ otherwise.

Cloud just rolled his eyes. "Why would I introduce my sister to you monkeys?" He ducked out quickly from the arm around his shoulders, escaping the head-slap from Reno.

The red-head grinned, shaking his head. "Monkeys, huh?" He leaned in closer until their lips were almost touching. "The way we  _fuck_ , Strife, I'd have thought we were more like rabbits." Reno laughed out loud when Cloud's traitorous skin flushed slightly as the warm breath on his lips brought forth mental images of their weekend routines. Then the familiar arm was back around his shoulders, and Reno was leading Cloud back towards Wall-Market.

They walked in easy silence for awhile, and Cloud was glad for it – he needed to process this new information, needed to sort out his memories from Zack's, needed to calm himself down because the fear still wouldn't leave him. It had been terrifying - that one moment when he'd thought he'd been found out, when he'd thought that Reno had learned his secret - and he wondered how, if ever, he was going to explain this to Sephiroth or Zack when the time came. He wasn't fool enough to believe they wouldn't figure something out eventually; he knew it was wishful thinking to hope that everything would be hunky-dory and he could just make like everything was normal. But that didn't make the knowledge of what he'd probably have to do any less frightening.

"I won't tell."

Reno's somber tone, so very different from his usual flippant one, broke the silence and startled Cloud out of his reverie. He glanced up at the taller boy, catching Reno's steady gaze. Why would Reno offer to keep all this secret? What did he  _want_?

_He's just looking out for you._

It was such an alien notion, such a foreign concept, that Cloud struggled to comprehend the weight of those three simple words. Reno was offering a lot more than secrecy, and they both knew it. It was staggering, inconceivable, and Cloud didn't quite know how to react.

_It's not like he said 'I love you' or anything. Get a fucking grip._

That thought kicked him back to reality, and he noted how Reno's gaze hadn't wavered. They'd been walking through some smaller alley when they'd stopped, and Cloud was glad that there was no one else around to witness the uncomfortable Hallmark moment.

He nodded at Reno, even though mentally he still didn't quite know if he was ready to accept the consequences of this…this  _thing_ , this  _friendship_ , that Reno was offering him.

"I know."

_Signed, sealed, delivered._

It was decided – they were friends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (1): Yes, a few Pirates of the Caribbean references – what with the rum and the boat over their heads and the "opportune moment" line – Risikaa put that particular quote in my head and it wouldn't leave me alone so I decided to have fun with it.
> 
> A/N (2): Vermillion Line – the line right in the middle of the forehead running from the hairline down between the eyes – taken off the SWAT extended edition, where Sgt Hondo is telling Sanchez where to aim her shots.
> 
> A/N (3): "Wow, is that a new course record?" - when Cloud announces his team has won is from the movie SWAT, uttered by Sgt Hondo once Jim Street and his team successfully complete their SWAT qualification test.
> 
> A/N (4): "Good times, great taste" – the old McDonald's jingle, before the current "I'm lovin' it" campaign took over.
> 
> A/N (5): I mean absolutely no disrespect to Extreme Makeover or Biggest Loser – I've watched those several times myself. (And I played that drinking game a few times.)
> 
> A/N (6): I made reference to "The Once and Future King" by T.H. White with the phrase 'the once-and-future-Turk'. In White's book, Merlin is an old man living through time backwards – notice the parallels?
> 
> A/N (7): Marine jargon and references have been used liberally – again I say I mean no disrespect whatsoever. Here's an explanation of some of the less common terms.
> 
> Reveille: wake-up call.
> 
> Scuttlebutt: Marine slang for water-cooler gossip.
> 
> Deuce gears a.k.a. 782 gears: standard issue field equipment, including the ILBE packs.
> 
> ILBE (Improved Load Bearing Equipment): Marine packs that include individual load carriage equipment, individual hydration systems, and individual water purification.
> 
> DD Form a.k.a. Form 782: the form that Marines sign when taking custody and responsibility for their equipment.
> 
> Maggot: Drill Instructor's affectionate name for recruits.
> 
> Holding one hand perpendicular to your brows is a hand-sign for 'watch' or 'look-out'.
> 
> Holding your hand up in a fist is a hand-sign for 'wait' or 'hold'.
> 
> A/N (8): Oniko reminded me that each fighter has their own individual style, and that since Cloud's is so similar to Zack's Sephiroth should have picked up on it – thank you for that. It helps make the story so much more realistic, and I'm grateful for the gentle reminder.
> 
> A/N (9): This chapter is very heavily Cloud and his friends – I realize the Sephiroth and Zack fans might feel a little put out, but I figured it was time Cloud had some fun.
> 
> A/N (10): Almost 26,000 words. Good grief.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

Reno and Rude were in Seventh Heaven. Drinking.

Well, Reno was doing most of the imbibing. Rude was just keeping his partner out of trouble – the red-head had been a bit weird lately, even by usual Reno standards, so Tseng had kicked the two of them out and told them to go hunker down at their usual watering-hole. It went without saying that Rude was supposed to monitor AVALANCHE as well.

"Where's my ear-ring?"

Rude flicked his eyes over to Reno. The red-head was touching his right ear, looking around them as though he expected to find something twinkling back up at him. Rude's brow furrowed slightly more than usual.

"You're wearing it." He nodded meaningfully towards the vicinity of Reno's left ear. Hopefully the red-head would understand – he was denser than usual these days.

Reno looked confused. "No, I'm not. I have  _two_  ear-rings man."

_Two?_

Rude racked his brain. Reno had been his partner since the red-head had joined the Turks – it had been meant as punishment for pissing Cissnei off; sic him with the loud-mouthed rookie and watch the red-head make them both look like idiots. Rude had all but resigned himself to a career of humiliation, degradation, and early retirement; but Reno had proven himself surprisingly astute and handy in a fight. They made for a good team – Reno could always be counted on to do something obnoxiously ridiculous, but the younger man always got the job done. He just had fun doing it. It was something Rude had come to respect and like about his street-smart colleague, and he had fought tooth and nail to have Reno retained as his partner when the hood-rat's probation was over.

Reno had only ever had one ear-ring.

"You've never had two ear-rings, Reno." He explained patiently, signaling Tifa for another drink. She nodded absent-mindedly, moving to fix it even as her eyes were fixed on the door. No need to ask who she was hoping to walk into the bar. Rude had long ago accepted that she would never return his feelings, but that didn't mean he couldn't stop looking at her and wishing she would just get over a certain angsty swordsman.

Reno was still touching his right ear, and panic was beginning to seep into his eyes. "No, man. I  _swear_  I've always had two."

A glass was slid across the bar, and Rude caught it instinctively. He was a regular here because Reno was a regular here, and every time Rude came to collect his perpetually promiscuous partner he'd get suckered into having a drink – which would turn into One Wild Night and the next day Tseng would have a cow.

"Reno, we've been partners for years," he took a sip. It was perfect, as usual. "Only your left ear is pierced." There was the matter of a nipple piercing that had been yanked off rather painfully by a pissed off prostitute, but Rude had been pinky-sworn to secrecy on that. It Never Happened.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorn'd._

Reno's breathing was speeding up now. Rude turned to look at him, concerned. It seemed the red-head was serious and seriously sotted (and mind-fucked because of some time-bending but Rude was practicing Selective Amnesia just like his anger management therapist told him to). Rude thought hard – he was an observant man, naturally perceptive, and he noticed everything. It was why he made such a fine Turk. But he was absolutely certain that Reno had never had two ear-rings.

This was all Strife's doing.

_Fucking emo blondie._

While Spiky was running around gettin' his freak on in the past, Rude was stuck here dealing with a hyperventilating-and-incredibly-sotted Reno.

_Blondes._

"Well, you're not wearing it now." He figured the best thing to do was try to calm Reno down, puzzle it out logically. Never mind that Reno was pretty drunk out of his mind – the red-head had been drinking mojito after mojito steadily for the past seven hours – and naturally incapable of rational thinking. They could work this out; they were  _partners_.

Never mind that Reno was having an identity crisis of Strifean proportions. Rude was starting to believe that blondness was infectious.

Strife really grew on you.

"You remember what happened to it?" He was facing Reno completely now, keeping his body-language relaxed and open, as one would a frightened child. Because that was exactly what Reno looked like now – terrified out of his fucking mind by all the mind-fucking Strife's time-traveling was doing. The next time Rude saw Strife, somebody was gonna get hurt  _real_  bad.

Reno frowned, looking around the bar although his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even Tifa had stopped staring at the door and had turned to look at them now, brow furrowed. No one had ever seen Reno anything less than self-assured; the red-head was the resident jack-ass, and this side of Reno was rather scary in its vulnerability.

"I…" Reno frowned harder, and Rude could see he was trying his best to remember, pinching his ear-lobe so hard his entire right ear had gone white. "I don't know." He raised wide green eyes at Rude then, and the bald Turk nearly fell off his bar-stool.

Reno was shit-scared.

In that one instant, the red-head had looked sixteen years old; young and inexperienced the way he'd been when they'd first met, though without the trademark cockiness that usually carried through to everything Reno did. Rude's fists clenched, and he heard the sound of glass breaking, felt something sharp and icy and wet in his left hand, heard Tifa gasp a little in surprise. He'd crushed the glass, and its contents had spilled all over the bar and all over his hand – mingling with the blood and shards but he couldn't feel anything because there was a muted buzzing in his ears, and his field of vision was becoming blurred around the edges.

_I'm gonna kill him._

##

"Zack."

The dark-haired SOLDIER turned upon hearing his name called – Tseng was walking down the corridor towards him, looking for all the world like he had simply happened by and was stopping to chat. But Zack knew him better than that – Tseng wanted something.

He played along anyway.

"Tseng! Good to see you, man!" Tseng endured the friendly slap on the arm with a tolerant smile; he'd gotten used to it already. "Where's Verdot been keeping you? It's been ages!" Well, technically they'd spoken a couple times the past two weeks but no one needed to know that. As far as everyone was concerned, SOLDIERs and Turks stayed out of each others' way and that was that. If it wasn't for Zack's reputation as SOLDIER's Mr Nice Guy, his speaking to Tseng like that would have raised a lot of eyebrows.

Tseng just smiled, relaxing slightly so as to keep up appearances. "I've been busy looking into that cadet – Strife – you remember him?"

_Do I remember him? I've been obsessed with him!_

But they were acting out a charade, so Zack grinned rather vacantly and nodded. "Yeah, the blond kid who broke another cadet's arm, right? He's good! I sparred with him a little last week."

Tseng nodded. "I heard about that. Sorry I wasn't there to watch."

There was the opening. Zack smiled, clapping Tseng on the shoulder lightly. "Yeah, you missed out." Zack made his eyes brighten as though he'd just remembered something that pleased him. "Seph came to watch though!"

Tseng raised an eyebrow, and this time Zack could tell it wasn't faked or forced.

_SOLDIER 1 – Turk 0._

_This is how we do it._

"Really?" Tseng looked impressed, leaning against the wall and looking very un-Turk-like in his indolence. "And what did the General have to say about the cadet?"

_It's what he DIDN'T say that matters._

Zack just grinned. "He was pretty impressed. Said I should give the kid private training coz he's perfect for SOLDIER." He ran a hand through his dark hair, it was still a little damp from his shower – he'd only just wandered into work. "Haven't approached the kid yet though. Dunno if I should." At that he looked meaningfully at Tseng, who nodded.

"Well, I think you should." The Turk pushed off the wall casually, making to walk off. "Maybe you could ask him about his acquaintances while you're at it."

_What?_

"Huh? Whaddya mean?" Zack cocked his head to the side, arms folded loosely across his chest.

Tseng stepped in closer, lowering his voice so that only Zack's Mako-enhancements allowed him to hear the Turk's next words. "He's been spotted with a certain Person of Interest twice." At that Tseng's eyes scanned their surroundings with practiced ease. Seeing that they were alone, he continued in his hushed tone. "The first time was just before he started exhibiting his…talents. We wrote it off as a coincidence, but now we think it might be more than that." At that Tseng quickly straightened up and smirked, making it look like he'd just told Zack some very juicy piece of gossip about some mutual acquaintance. Zack played his part with ease – he was dying to know more as it was.

"Who?"

Tseng just shook his head. It went unspoken – no way could he reveal that information. Zack's shoulders sagged a bit, and he debated just punching the smug looking Turk. He'd never been one for meaningless violence, but now seemed to be as good a time as any to get with the senseless rage program.

Tseng had started to turn. "Well, it was good seeing you Zack." He smiled. "You know, a lot of people have been talking about the 'power of prayer' since that whole 'The Secret' series." There was a slight tug to his lips. "But I personally think that God's still on vacation." The Turk nodded his head slightly in farewell and walked off. Zack called out a cheery "bye" to Tseng's retreating back.

 _A church in the slums, huh?_ Zack turned and walked the other way, heading towards Sephiroth's office.  _I'll ask him later._

Feeling slightly better now that he had this delicious little morsel of information about Cloud, Zack started humming his new favorite tune.

"Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me…"

##

"I think the Gunny needs to get laid."

Reno was huffing and puffing along next to Cloud, their morning PT session turning into a nightmare of a marathon. Cloud himself was winded, but he forced himself to keep going, to keep running at his usual speed even though his legs felt about ready to fall off and the stitch in his side was screaming Bloody Murder. He was in  _pain_ , dammit! But no, he had to save the world, and he couldn't do it if he was just Spiky the Loser.

_I'm a glutton for punishment._

Most of their bunk had gotten ear-rings now, and apparently Jared had almost gotten a tongue piercing - it was only Ralph's informing him that he'd drool like an idiot for awhile after getting it that had dissuaded the blond. Cloud was a little glad – he knew Jared with a tongue piercing would just insist on everyone getting a 'taste' of his new flavor. And Cloud had turned into quite the little player recently.

A part of Cloud was glad for this new symbol in his left ear. Where before it had been just him trying to be someone else, now it was a mark of friendship – Ralph had called it Team Fenrir's mascot, but Cloud was waiting to get his usual ear-piece made before he agreed with the other cadet.

He missed his baby.

As they ran, he allowed his mind to drift off, glad that everyone was too tired for their usual banter. Yesterday had been fun, and he'd been surprised at how many cadets from other bunkers had joined them. Lunch had been raucous and noisy – filled with insults and more lewd jokes than usual – not that Cloud blamed them. For most of them women were welcome sights after so long in their all-male training environment. Reno had kept his promise and not mentioned a thing about Aeris - saying only that Blondie had gotten lost - for which Cloud was glad. He could tell that Ray and the others realized that something was up, but they were at least discreet enough not to ask. If there was one thing that made Cloud glad he was back here, it was the new friends he was making. Never mind that Nibelheim was approaching – he had  _friends_ , and he knew they were the type to stand by him. He couldn't really remember what happened to them after Nibelheim the first time around – he'd been far too stand-offish and self-absorbed to pay attention to anything but his usual misery. This time though, he was making sure to show in his own way how much he appreciated their company – even though all he was doing was talking to them and helping them out with homework, but it was the thought that mattered anyway. Cloud had never been a very expressive person, and he was pretty sure everyone knew that.

Although Tifa had mentioned once that during the first hunt for Sephiroth he'd been far more expressive than later – he'd wondered what had happened to change things, but the answer was simple. He'd killed him. It didn't help that after the first time he'd killed Sephiroth, Cloud had actually begun to move on with his life, to surge ahead of even Tifa, but then the Geostigma came. If there was ever a sign of divine justice, that was it – Cloud was clearly never meant to be Mr Happy-Happy-Joy-Joy.

Cloud wondered when he'd get to talk to the General – Aeris seemed to think he actually had a chance at something with the silver-haired man, but then again Aeris was an eternal optimist. He figured the best way to get to know Sephiroth this time around was through Zack, but the First was either busy or biding his time or – and this last option made his heart clench painfully – wasn't interested in him. Cloud knew that couldn't be true though – this time around Zack actually had a reason to approach him, as opposed to before, when they'd been just two guys trudging along in the snow talking about small towns and Mako reactors. Or maybe Zack only spoke to people who were weak, only bothered to protect those who couldn't defend themselves. Zack always could be counted on to play the Knight in Shining Armor. Either that or the man had some serious macho issues and a need to prove himself; but Cloud doubted that was the case. Zack was the perfect guy – he had practically everything: charm, looks, smarts, skills; why would he need to prove himself anymore than he already had? No, it was Cloud who always had something to prove, Cloud who always had a chip on his shoulder and a need to excel, because maybe then people would like him.

No matter how old he was, no matter what he'd been through, at the end of the day he was still the wimpy little bastard whom no other kid wanted to play with.

_Quit being so damned depressing._

It was hard not to be, not when he'd always sought so desperately for acceptance and approval. He had a feeling that no matter how many times he reminded himself that he was here to change things, he'd never feel truly satisfied until Nibelheim was successfully averted.

_And when you're successfully in his bed?_

He stumbled slightly at that errant thought; recovering quickly enough that all Reno did was shoot him a quick look. The red-head probably chalked it up to him being exhausted – they all were, but it didn't look like their sadistic instructor was about to let up anytime soon. Cloud re-focused himself mentally – he just had to get through PT, and then they would go to hand-to-hand class, and have fun with the Keysi Fighting Method. Cloud had never really cared much for hand-to-hand combat, but Zack had been good at pretty much everything, which had carried over to Cloud. That and Tifa had taken it upon herself to educate him in pugilism just in case his beloved First Tsurugi was ever too far away to help. Not that that had ever happened in the future, but Cloud was grateful for Tifa's amazing foresight – her teachings were certainly serving him in good stead here.

He was looking forward to their KFM free-sparring session. Being Batman was fun when you were only fighting jokers.

Mercifully the whistle sounded as Cloud and Reno were reaching the Gunny. They stumbled to a stop gratefully, Cloud doing his best to breathe steadily and walk on the spot and Reno doing his best to become one with the filthy track. The Gunny didn't give them all much time to catch their breath – as soon as the last of the stragglers reached him, he gave another blast of his whistle and ordered them to suicide drills.

No one had any energy to groan.

As they wobbled towards hand-to-hand, Cloud found himself wondering about Reno's hairstyle. He'd never really paid attention to it before – Reno had always been more of a drinking buddy and resident jack-ass – but here, as cadets, he was surprised to realize that Reno's hair was just in a short pony-tail; in fact it wasn't even beginning to show signs of The Mullet - Cloud had never really bothered with appearances, but now that he was comfortable enough around Reno, he was beginning to play Spot the Differences - personality-wise and physically.

Well, not that the red-head was  _too_ different. As far as Cloud was concerned, Reno would always be Reno, even if the future Turk had a different hairstyle.

_He'll always be business upfront, party in the back._

Reno made mullets look good. Not that Cloud would ever consider getting one. Really – he'd been called white trash more times than he could remember and he didn't need this outward badge of Bastard Pride.

At least Jeffries had a heart – the Staff Sergeant had taken one look at the pathetic, panting, puppy-eyed cadets and told them to just get into pairs and work on their techniques. There was a collective sigh of relief from the group, and Cloud was exhausted enough to venture a weak smile at Jeffries, which was reciprocated by a thump to the back that almost sent the blond sprawling.

 _SOLDIERs_.

He got Ray for his partner again, because it seemed Reno wanted to take it easy in practice. Not that Cloud could blame him – they were all shaking and still trying to catch their breaths – Payne was a sadistic bastard-and-a-half. Cloud was looking forward to a nice, relaxing time of pretending he wasn't capable of knocking the Junon kid to the ground in two seconds.

It took Jared only five minutes of dodging Brian's rather wobbly attacks to become his usual chatty self, and try as he might Cloud couldn't say he'd missed the silence. Talking was proof that they were alive, proof that he was here and part of the group, and at least Jared was funny.

 _Zack's really funny too_.

Cloud stomped that thought out ruthlessly – he'd all but accepted that there was no way he could approach Zack without seeming like a vapid fan, so the only other viable course of action was to wait until the First decided to approach  _him_. Cloud wanted to look forward to it but there was the matter of higher hopes leading to a more crushing disappointment, so Jared's lewd wit was a welcome relief.

"God, I'm filthy," the taller blond moaned dramatically, stretching in such a way that he simultaneously dodged another of Brian's vibrating elbows while making his own sweat-drenched shirt ride up slightly to expose hip-bones framing a rather tantalizing V.

 _Good grief_.

Cloud was turning into SUCH a pervert.

"Yeah, Payne likes giving us a hard time." Ralph grinned from Cloud's other side, ducking low and spinning around to deliver a quick jab to where Reno's shoulder had been less than a second ago.

Cloud bit his lip to prevent himself from saying something along the lines of liking it hard, twisting his torso to avoid a knee to the ribs from Ray. His back protested the movement, but it was protesting everything today so Cloud had given up listening to it pull a 70's on him.

He concentrated on the talk going on around him, preferring not to focus on his fighting because focusing on his moves always reminded him of the countless times he'd fought to save himself and his friends. Ray brought up the subject of clubbing again, and Reno mentioned a place under the plate. And that was that – somehow the rest of the bunk managed to hear about it within seconds and Grant was bopping along to some nameless tune that only he could hear while grappling with another cadet. Cloud just shook his head, smiling a little because he couldn't help it. He supposed he wouldn't be smiling when they actually went to the club, seeing as his dancing lessons consisted of watching his mother waltz around their living room with an imaginary partner. He'd always wondered if she was dancing with the memory of the man who'd sired him, but he'd never asked.

Which reminded him of his resolution to be a better son this time around, so he decided to write a letter to her later.

"Cloudy." Hearing it chorused by so many amused voices, Cloud jerked his head up and narrowly dodged an elbow to his face. He smiled apologetically, and he must have been really tired because he ventured an explanation without any prompting – Tifa would fall over in shock if she knew he was talking without being forced to.

"Was thinking about writing a letter to my mom later." And instantly bit his tongue because he  _really_ didn't need to sound like a total mummy's boy right now - he was training to be the lean, mean, killing machine he'd be in the future, dammit - but then he chided himself internally. Why should he care what the others thought – she was his  _mother_ , and he'd be damned if he threw away this second chance to show her how much he loved her.

That didn't stop him from flushing slightly as the others awww'ed and cooed and teased him for being such a sweetheart. Cloud blamed his pale complexion for it.

"Seriously though," Ray grinned. "You're living in the past, man." At that Cloud's heart skipped a beat, and an irrational paranoia seized him while the words echoed in his head. How many times had he been told those exact words by AVALANCHE? How many times had he told them to himself, sitting by the little field of flowers and seeing only brown hair and water? How many times had he heard it whispered in the wind as he looked at his dull reflection in a rusty sword on a cliff edge?

Too many times, a little voice whispered in his head.

Ralph was talking, and Cloud heard him as though through a fog, but gradually the black-haired cadet's words penetrated the haze of memories.

"…phone."

 _Huh_?

Cloud must have spoken his thoughts out loud again, because when his eyes refocused Reno was chuckling and even Brian was giggling.

Ray laughed. "Ralphy said, 'why don't you just use a phone?'"

 _Oh_.

Cloud wanted to kick himself. Or Reno, who was nearly doubled over with laughter, but Ralph did that for him – attacking the distracted red-head and sending the two of them tumbling to the ground because even distracted Reno was a helluva opponent and could always be counted on to flip someone off in every sense of the word.

Jared was still snickering, but he managed to sound coherent when he pointed at Ray and said that their sugar-daddy had a pretty sweet new cell-phone.

"All the better to pimp you ho's out with, my dear." Ray had a distinctly wolfish leer to his face, even as he adopted a saccharinely-sweet tone.

Cloud rolled his eyes, but he accepted Ray's offer to use his cell later. He hoped he remembered the number though – Nibelheim didn't exactly have a YellowPages, boondocks that it was.

By the time hand-to-hand finished, calling their mothers had become all the rage among the cadets, and Cloud wished he'd invested in telco-stocks. He had to remind himself not to get all big-headed about being a trend-setter though, because the last thing he needed was to develop a huge ego – he wasn't the Fat President.

Of course Jared wanted to call everyone's mothers too but that was just Jared being Jared.

Lunch was a rowdy affair – with word of the planned club-night turning into an impending dance-off between the bunkers. Cloud was saved from being volunteered as his bunker's representative by Reno and the others – he would have kissed them if it wasn't still broad daylight. He REALLY didn't know how to dance – it was the one thing he'd never actually learned or picked up from Zack; over-sized test-tubes didn't exactly lend themselves to optimal marimba conditions. The guys wanted to teach him, but he was pretty sure he had two left feet – even so, it didn't stop them from vowing to make him a groove-master by the end of club-night.

_Good grief._

Cloud wanted to break a leg.

##

In Battle Comms class Cloud was trying to ignore the fact that Jared was practically drooling on his shoulder as the other blond opted to catch up on his beauty sleep. Cloud supposed he couldn't really blame the other cadet – class was ridiculously boring at the best of times, and today's lesson ranked among the worst he'd ever had. Their instructor seemed not to notice how most of the cadets had their heads buried in their arms on the tables, or he just didn't care. Their loss if they didn't pass their exams – there were more than enough boys signing up for SOLDIER training every year to fill the ranks anyway, even with the stringent testing procedures. Sephiroth was a helluva guy-magnet, and now that he thought about it, Cloud understood why the recruitment booths seemed more like shrines to the General than anything – just wave Sephiroth's picture around and people came running.

He glanced at the clock – five minutes left to class – so he shifted slightly, waking Jared. The other boy yawned noisily, rubbing sleep from his eyes and accidentally-on-purpose letting his wandering hands nudge Cloud's ass. Cloud just rolled his eyes. Reno was still fast asleep, and he debated waking him – he'd done it plenty of times in Seventh Heaven, when the red-head was too sotted from one of their perpetual drinking competitions – but even though the other boy was still just a cadet here Cloud couldn't shake the memory of how keen the Turk's survival instincts were.

Then again, it wasn't like Reno had his nightstick or Mako enhancements here.

As he was mulling over being the resident alarm-clock, Ralph just went ahead and jabbed Reno in the ribs. The red-head woke soundlessly, arm pinning Ralph's neck to the back of their seats, other hand going for the Rocket Town cadet's face in a claw-like grip before Cloud intervened. Reno blinked sleep from his eyes, releasing Ralph with a muttered apology. For his part the black-haired cadet took it all in stride, rubbing his throat and swearing never to wake Reno again in his life. Cloud let go of Reno from where he'd practically been melded to the taller boy – holding hands and wrapped around the other's waist – and turned back to the board to the sound of Jared's snickering insinuations. Their instructor hadn't even noticed the almost-mutilation of Ralph's face.

As the cadets started to pack their things noisily, signaling the end of class even though their instructor was still droning on and on, the door opened and Staff Sergeant Jeffries walked in. Instantly all the cadets straightened, pausing in their escape and rising to attention. Jeffries nodded at them, passing a slip of paper to Corporal Maran before turning and walking out, but not before the Staff Sergeant eyed the damp patch on Cloud's shirt. The blond didn't flush, but he did cut his eyes accusingly to Jared, focusing on Jeffries again just in time to see the amused tilt to the Staff Sergeant's lips. He offered a small smile in return.

Corporal Maran cleared his throat, not even waiting to see if he had the cadets' attention before announcing that they would start Driver's Ed next week – at that most of the cadets cheered while some groaned. Cloud remembered falling of his bike and crashing his truck more times than anyone else before – but since he'd practically become the God of Bike Riding in the future, he was looking forward to the familiar thrum of an engine and the feel of raw power between his legs.

_Pervert._

Cloud had been spending too much time with Reno.

The guys had started talking excitedly about finally getting behind the wheel after forever, and it turned out that Jared had been a motocross racer before joining cadet training, and Ralph had practically grown up in a garage – Cloud wanted to snort at the stereotypical Rocket Town image – and he wasn't surprised to learn that Ray had been playing with several (very expensive) cars and bikes since he was old enough to be able to reach the pedals without a prosthetic limb made out of soda cans. Reno was smirking, and Cloud remembered that the future Reno was addicted to helicopters. It came as no surprise that Brian had never driven before – Cloud remembered the other cadet trying desperately to drive shift the last time. All the books in the world didn't help when it came to split second decisions and synchronizing movements, and Cloud was very glad for his own experience, even though he didn't say anything. He supposed he'd have to control himself, seeing as how tiny little cadets from Nibelheim weren't supposed to be Supermen on bikes, but he couldn't help the excited little fluttering in his chest as he came this one step closer to Fenrir.

_Daddy's coming._

God, he missed his baby.

They headed towards First Aid class considerably more energetically than when they'd dragged themselves towards Battle Comms, and Cloud settled into his usual seat at the back with Reno next to him. Jared had already grabbed Cloud's Battle Comms notes during the walk to First Aid, and he was fending off Ray's attempts to steal it – though Cloud doubted anyone actually fended off potential muggers that provocatively, no matter how good-looking said mugger was.

Cloud didn't even bother taking notes or paying attention in this class, leaning back in his seat and doing the 'cloudy' thing nonchalantly – the others just ribbed him good-naturedly but he ignored them – Brian would take enough notes for everyone to copy anyway.

Cloud couldn't wait for Driver's Ed.

##

There was a knock on his door, and Sephiroth called an authoritative 'come in' without lifting his head from his paperwork. He heard the door being opened, his keen senses picking up the scent of cadet soap and sweat, and he raised his head slightly.

Strife was standing at the doorway, looking very much like a rabbit caught in the headlights that was pretending it actually had a death-wish. Sephiroth wanted to smirk – it seemed the little cadet had what Zack liked to call 'balls'.

 _And balls are a very good thing to have_ , a distinctly Zack-sounding voice whispered in his head. Sephiroth frowned internally – this Strife conundrum was starting to get on his nerves. He was glad he'd finally just gotten Zack to sneak the boy into his office for an impromptu meeting/interrogation. Sephiroth did not like not knowing everything about everything – in battle, ignorance was deathly bliss, and Sephiroth didn't become General by championing World Peace and respecting Privacy Laws.

He motioned for Strife to close the door, and watched as the petite blonde hesitated only marginally before removing his hand from the handle after shutting the door almost soundlessly. The cadet still wouldn't meet his eyes, and Sephiroth was disappointed. From Zack's accounts, the blonde was a tough, smart fighter – the boy should at least be able to face the General head-on. Not that Sephiroth could blame him – even the Shinra directors couldn't look him in the eye; Hojo was the only one who loved staring at him with that perpetually-dissecting gaze.

Still, a part of him had been hoping…

_For what?_

Sephiroth didn't want to finish that train of thought. This was all Zack's fault.

Strife had started chewing on his bottom lip nervously, and unbidden the unconscious action drew Sephiroth's gaze. The boy had full pink lips, and they looked soft.

If Sephiroth had been Zack, he would have kicked himself. As it was, this internal debate led to his tone being harsher than it normally would have been when he spoke at last.

"Explain your inconsistencies, cadet."

To Strife's credit, he only flinched minutely, tensing almost unnoticeably, hands clenching slightly at his sides before the cadet straightened, putting his hands behind his back, squaring his shoulders marginally. If Sephiroth had been Zack, he would have applauded the boy's 'balls'.

"General, sir. I decided to apply myself to my classes." It was the first time Sephiroth had heard Strife's voice, and he had to admit it suited the cadet in an odd, man/boy way. There was an underlying tremor which the General attributed to nerves, but what caught his attention most was boy's tone of voice. It was at once cool and detached, yet invested with emotions that Sephiroth did not want to get within Masamune-length of.  _Zack_ was the Dr Phil of the two of them – Sephiroth was more the CSI-type.

He narrowed his eyes at the cadet who was still lingering by the door. Sephiroth wanted to smirk – did the boy really think he'd make it out of the office before Sephiroth could reach him? He debated letting the blonde believe in this false sense of safety, but he'd had enough of the boy's almost evasive personality, and answers had been eluding him. Sephiroth wanted the truth, and he was going to get it – one way or another.

"Come here." The General watched with almost malicious glee as the cadet stiffened, mind no doubt furiously debating the repercussions of making a run for it. Sephiroth just waited. He knew that there was no way a mere cadet would dare defy him, not when all of SOLDIER and all of Shinra didn't dare gainsay him. Sephiroth might be on their payroll, but he worked for them because he chose to – and if something better came along, Sephiroth had no qualms about leaving. There was no doubt that the expression on the President's face would be infinitely amusing if Sephiroth ever handed in his resignation.

Strife took an infinitesimal step forward, and all the while Sephiroth remained still as a statue, brilliant green eyes taking in everything about the cadet, cataloguing every minute detail. He noticed the slight shifting of weight that indicated nightly activities of the male persuasion, remembered Zack's deliberately off-handed comment about Strife and a red-headed bunk-mate. Then Strife took another, bigger, step forward, and Sephiroth wondered if he should tell the cadet that his concealed weapon wasn't very well concealed – especially when he walked, and especially not to him, the General.

Sephiroth was pretty sure every red-blooded male had noticed the weapon – it was hard not to miss it when it was right next to a certain anatomical part on the pretty little cadet.

_Pretty little cadet?_

Luckily, Sephiroth was saved from an abusive internal tirade when Strife took a deep breath, the action drawing the General's attention to the boy's chest as it expanded, thin shirt drawing tight over nipples that looked hardened by the highly efficient air-conditioning. Then the blonde took the remaining steps forward to stop inches from Sephiroth's table, breath leaving him almost soundlessly as it rustled the papers on the desk slightly. Sephiroth still hadn't moved, knowing he was unnerving the boy with his stillness,  _wanting_  to unnerve the boy, because nervous individuals tended to blurt out things they normally wouldn't say, and Sephiroth wanted his answers.

He rose to his feet soundlessly, towering over the already diminutive cadet, knowing full well how imposing his appearance was. Strife didn't move, but his right hand – his  _sword_  hand – twitched slightly, the miniscule movement easily overlooked if one wasn't the General. Sephiroth wanted to smirk. He was liking this cadet more and more.

Strife still hadn't moved, hadn't raised his head from where he appeared to be dissecting the desk, and Sephiroth wondered if the boy's hair was as soft as it appeared to be.

He decided to say something before he could pursue that train of thought any further.

"I doubt a mere application of self is enough to justify this sudden jump in ability." He kept his voice neutral, cool, business-like. No need to put the boy on the defensive just yet.

Strife still didn't speak, keeping his head down, and Sephiroth wondered if the cadet was just tongue-tied the way most people were in his presence. Zack and Tseng were the only ones left in Shinra who didn't lose their coherency around the General, and a part of Sephiroth wished for the good old days when Angeal and Genesis and he had been friends. He pushed that thought away ruthlessly. Emotions were worthless in battle at best, a liability at worst.

"Cadet Strife." This time Sephiroth let a little threatening note slip into his tone, allowed a slightly more demanding nuance. He'd learned from experience that just this subtle pressure was enough to reduce most people to blubbering, bumbling buffoons.

Strife had only tensed even more subtly, right hand twitching as though itching to grab an imaginary sword. Sephiroth raised an eyebrow slightly – this boy was obviously a born swordsman, a natural warrior. It would be a pity to lose him, but Sephiroth wasn't about to let the cadet get away with whatever it was he'd been doing simply because the youth had talent.

They stood like that for awhile - one imposing, tall, menacing presence; the other quiet, deferring, still. Both of them soundless, waiting,  _anticipating._

Sephiroth broke the silence when he was certain it had unnerved the cadet enough.

"Come around the table."

At this Strife tensed noticeably, back stiffening, fist clenching. He didn't move for a few seconds, before turning and walking around the majestic desk to stop an arm's length away from the General. Sephiroth didn't miss how the cadet had deliberately placed himself between him and Masamune. He wanted to applaud the boy's foresight, if he didn't deem it an unnecessary precaution. He had a reputation to maintain after all, and it wouldn't do if word got out that he was skewering tiny little cadets in his office as though they were chocobo-colored marshmallows.

He reached out, closing the distance between them, feeling more than seeing the blond flinch and tense, knowing the cadet was longing to step back, put more distance between them, run as far away as possible from whatever it was the General was planning to do. But to Strife's credit he stood his ground after a sharp intake of breath, and Sephiroth allowed his hand to fist the boy's shirt, yanking him forward with more force than was necessary, making the cadet collide with his chest and filling his senses with Eau de Cadet and something else that was undeniably Strife.

Strife's short, sharp breaths were falling on Sephiroth's chest below his collarbone, and this close the General could feel their difference in stature more acutely. The boy had a presence, a way about him that made him appear if not bigger, then tougher and stronger than he physically was. Sephiroth could see the brilliant SOLDIER in the cadet even now, knew with certainty that this tiny little blonde would someday become a great swordsman, an even greater warrior. He knew he would have to tread carefully, knew he wanted this boy's allegiance, maybe even his friendship.

_And his body?_

Sephiroth had been spending far too much time with The Black Porcupine.

He was still holding Strife's shirt, and he twisted his fist in the thin fabric.

"You will not tell me?" He made his voice cold and menacing this time, wanting his answers and deciding he was going to get them even if he had to break the boy, rules be damned. Zack wouldn't be happy about it, but Sephiroth knew Zack would make excuses for him, cover for him no matter what. The Brigadier General could take 'Semper Fi' to the next level.

Strife refused to speak, didn't move even though Sephiroth was sure the boy wanted nothing more than to lash out and make a run for it. He applauded the cadet's control. Zack would do well to learn a few things from the little blond.

"Very well." He shoved the boy onto his desk, knocking papers onto the floor, not caring at this moment that he was making a mess of his highly organized office. He pinned the cadet face-down, grabbing slender arms and twisting in a way he knew  _had_  to hurt. Strife refused to make a sound, and somehow that just fueled Sephiroth's desire to break the boy's control even more. Grimly he decided to make sure that Strife knew who was in charge here – he would teach Strife to ask "how high" when he said "jump".

He ripped the blond's shirt, using it to bind lithe arms in such a way that if the blond tried to move them in the slightest, the shirt would pull his head back painfully. The makeshift bonds held Strife's mouth open, thin fabric drawn tight between two rows of perfect teeth. There was no way the position wasn't hurting the cadet, since Sephiroth had tightened the bonds cruelly, but Strife still refused to make a sound, although Sephiroth could see the boy's fists were clenched tight, could see the taut line of developing shoulders. He reached below the cadet, feeling the blond tense even more when his hand came to rest near the boy's groin. He squeezed, felt Strife start, and leaned over to speak directly into a perfectly shaped ear.

"Cadets are not allowed weapons, Strife." This close Sephiroth could hear the thrum of blood rushing through the blond's veins, could hear the thundering of the cadet's pulse. Strife's eyes were clenched tightly shut, so Sephiroth grabbed the boy's ass with his other hand, squeezing cruelly and knowing it had to hurt. Strife's eyes had flown open in shock, before closing again from the pain. His breath was coming faster now; adrenalin pumping through his veins, but still the blond didn't try to fight, holding himself still despite what the General was doing, despite knowing that the General was  _about_  to do.

"You like being treated like a whore, don't you?" Sephiroth's tone was as vicious as his grip, never having been a gentle lover and not intending to start. He needed the rush of a furious fuck, liked the feeling of pounding in brutally. It made him feel alive as only one other thing could – being in battle and hearing the chorus of war. It was what he'd been born for, and he didn't need Hojo telling him that constantly to know it.

Strife tensed even more, but Sephiroth could see the flush on the boy's cheeks, felt a slight hardening between the blond's legs even as he heard the cadet's pulse speed up. He allowed himself a small smirk – this was going to be fun.

He straightened, stepped back slightly, keen eyes not missing how Strife seemed to simultaneously sag slightly with relief and arch back in a subtle attempt to seek out more contact. Sephiroth grabbed the boy's fatigues, yanking them down with plain boxers to reveal twin pale, firm globes. The musky scent of arousal filled his nostrils, and he turned, walking to the window and deliberately looking out over the city, letting Strife believe he'd been abandoned in that wanton pose.

He leaned against the cool glass, crossing his arms and keeping his back to the cadet bent scandalously over his desk. To his credit, Strife simply held his position, neither shifting nor making a sound. Sephiroth didn't want to admit that this only further fueled his desire, didn't want to admit that Strife had a hold over him no matter what. He was frustrated, or as close to frustrated as he could be without dealing with corrupt, inept bureaucrats. The whole situation with Strife had been plaguing him far too much, and Sephiroth needed to end it now, before the cadet became a SOLDIER and they had to work together.

"Do you want me to touch you?" His tone was politely impersonal, as though discussing the weather. He eyed Strife's faint reflection in the glass, but other than that made no move to indicate that he was even aware of the cadet's presence. The blond shifted subtly, fatigues and boxers sliding further down lean legs, baring more of that smooth skin to the cold office air. Sephiroth angled his head slightly so that he could watch the cadet out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" A sharp intake of breath, and Strife shifted more noticeably this time. Sephiroth could see the youth's muscles beginning to tremble with the strain of holding his pose without making himself more comfortable. It seemed the boy had his pride, refusing to show the General how affected he was despite the obvious scent of attraction. Sephiroth was impressed. Usually his bed-partners would be begging by now. He knew the effect he had on people, had known it since he was a child, except once upon a time he'd been too innocent to understand. But since he'd joined SOLDIER, since he'd gone through cadet training, he'd learned to use his every asset to his advantage. Zack had once commented on his Turkishness, and Angeal had made a similar comment years before. Sephiroth pushed the parallels out of his mind. He didn't want to think about the dark-haired ex-SOLDIER. Especially not now when a pretty little cadet was spread so invitingly over his desk.

"Step out of your pants." Sephiroth watched as Strife hesitated only marginally before moving to do his bidding, the standard-issue boots making it difficult for the cadet to succeed without bumping his length against the cool table. Sephiroth could hear the soft hisses and gasps as the blond tried to avoid stimulation to his no-doubt growing arousal, but otherwise the General didn't move from his position by the window, preferring to let the boy struggle.

At length Strife stepped out of his pants, pushing the fatigues and the boxers away with his booted feet. The blond leaned heavily against the desk, the bonds keeping him from being able to rest his head against the tabletop. Sephiroth eyed the way the boy's neck muscles were straining with the effort of keeping his position – moving his arms would cause the bonds to pull against his head, but moving his head caused the bonds to tug the blond's arms even more painfully. Sephiroth watched the boy for a while longer, waiting until the trembling muscles threatened to cramp before turning and walking back to his desk. He grabbed the makeshift bonds, yanked back painfully and was rewarded with a muted cry that Strife couldn't stifle. The silver-haired man allowed himself a feral smile before undoing the knots, rearranging the bonds so that they simply held the cadet's arms firmly behind his back. Then he stepped back.

"Pick up your fatigues and your boxers." He watched as Strife tugged lightly at his torn shirt. "With your mouth, cadet." Strife stiffened, but slowly raised himself off the table and stepped back, some of Sephiroth's previously neat paperwork stuck to a toned, sweaty chest. The General stood impassive. "Put them on the desk and bend over." Sephiroth couldn't deny how much the sight of the blond's mouth around his own boxers and fatigues was affecting him, but he clamped down on the rising arousal. He would not let the cadet know how much he wanted this too.

When Strife dropped his clothes on the desk and bent over again, resting his forehead against more papers, Sephiroth eyed the lithe back glistening with sweat. Then he stepped forward, picking up the cadet's boxers with one hand, the other going for blond locks and grabbing them in a rough hold, yanking the boy's head back to stuff skivvies into a pretty mouth, stopping only when the blond nearly gagged. Then he dropped the cadet's head back onto the tabletop, listening to the dull thud as Strife's forehead struck papers when the boy didn't catch himself in time. He looked down at Strife's legs, the harness for his weapon standing in stark contrast against the pale skin. Reaching down, Sephiroth unfastened the strap, lifting the sheathed blade and examining it.

A butterfly knife suited the blond somehow, in a way Sephiroth couldn't quite explain. There was no doubt that the cadet was meant for a sword, and yet the image of the tiny youth wielding an exotic and deadly balisong only seemed to further heighten Sephiroth's arousal. There was something about Strife that seemed to affect Sephiroth no matter what, something about those eyes and that controlled manner that insinuated itself under Sephiroth's skin despite his best attempts at ignoring it.

He pulled the blade out of its sheath, then lowered his hand to nudge at Strife's cheeks with the metal warmed by the blond's own skin. The cadet started, jerking forward slightly and bumping his own length against the table. There was a soft moan that Sephiroth might have missed if he didn't have keener senses than any other SOLDIER. So it seemed the little blond liked playing with fire. Try as he might, Sephiroth couldn't deny that he liked this kinky side to the quiet cadet.

_What is it about you that makes you so impossible to ignore, Strife?_

"Would you like me to make you bleed, slut?" Sephiroth breathed into a flushed ear. Strife couldn't mute his gasp at that – Sephiroth had always been a master of manipulation, and seduction was an excellent way of getting what one wanted while having a good time.

_A very, very good time._

He wondered why he seemed to have a permanent Zack-voice in his mind, even when his nostrils were filled with Strife. Though the blond was diminutive, barely topping Sephiroth's collarbone, Strife seemed to have filled the Sephiroth's immediate awareness completely.

He pushed all those thoughts away – deciding to analyze them  _later_  – for now, he had some business to attend to.

He nudged the balisong in slightly, past the puckered opening, enjoying how Strife tensed instantly at the invasion, how short breaths became slightly louder, how the blond tried to relax to let the knife in yet pretend that he was not involved in this, that he didn't want this.

_Who are you trying to fool, Strife? You've always wanted me._

Sephiroth wondered at the ageless finality of that thought – the sheer knowing imbedded in it. He wondered how he knew; reminded himself to think about it LATER, forced the butterfly knife further in a bit harder than he would have if he hadn't been so forcefully trying to push away errant thoughts.

Strife's pained gasp was muted by the boxers in his mouth, but Sephiroth caught it anyway. He pulled the knife out slightly, liking how the movement was not smoothened by lubrication, liking how Strife moved slightly with the balisong as though trying to retain it inside him. It seemed Cloud Strife really liked pointy objects.

The General chuckled lightly, twisting the butterfly-knife ruthlessly and making the blond cry out this time. "It won't be over so fast, Strife." The silver-haired man whispered, before giving in and biting hard on the flushed tip of an ear. Strife made a sound halfway between a startled cry and a moan – whatever it was, it went straight to Sephiroth's groin. He wanted to slam the pretty little blond against the desk again and again with the force of his thrusts, but more than that he wanted to make the cadet scream his name in desperation. He wanted Strife to beg.

Sephiroth rotated the knife once more before yanking it out brutally. Strife seemed disappointed, if the soft whine was any indication. Sephiroth pulled the boxers out of the cadet's mouth and held the balisong in front of Strife – knowing the hovering blade must be filling the blond's nose with its musky scent, knowing that the blond knew what was coming, what the General wanted.

When Strife opened his mouth in soundless surrender, Sephiroth almost lost all control.

As it was, he moved his wrist, letting the blond take almost all of the balisong in but keeping a hold on it.

"Suck."

The command was cold, yet roughened slightly with desire that Sephiroth was having a hard time keeping under wraps. But Strife was much further along than the General, if the way the blond shivered was any indication.

Perfect lips closed around the intricate blade handle, and Strife's cheeks hollowed as the blond obeyed the General's command, tasting himself and the tang of metal. Sephiroth moved the knife in and out, enjoying the constant suction that gave just the right resistance to his movements, not wanting to imagine those lips around his cock because then he would really get hard and the blond would know how much he was affected by all this.

Then he decided he didn't care.

Strife's lips made a 'pop' sound as the balisong was yanked out, before letting a sharp gasp through as the butterfly knife was forcefully shoved deep inside the blond's ass. Then Sephiroth grabbed a fistful of blond hair, spinning the boy around and shoving him onto his knees, narrowly missing the table.

"Keep it in." This time the General's voice was rough with desire, and Strife inhaled sharply, keeping blue eyes shut tight even as his lips remained parted wantonly.

Sephiroth sat himself down on his chair, one hand still in blond spikes.

"Suck me."

That was all it took – Strife was beyond resistance, if the arousal was any indication. Hard, red, and weeping, it seemed the blond was ready for release. But Sephiroth would make him beg for it,  _wanted_ to hear the cadet cry out in need.

Before he could wonder why he wanted so badly to make the little blond scream for him, warm breath above his fly brought Sephiroth back to attention instantly. Strife suckled him through the expensive fabric of his tailored suit, the warmth and moisture making Sephiroth harden instantly.

He tightened his grip in the cadet's hair, the order unspoken, and Strife obeyed instantly, using pearly whites to unzip the General, the tent making progress slightly bumpy, before the scent of arousal through black silken briefs filled the air, and Strife let out a small moan that made the General's length twitch in response unbidden.

Sephiroth's grip in the blond's hair was now painfully tight, and Strife wasted no time obeying him. The cadet tugged at black briefs with his teeth and Sephiroth's length was freed, slapping the blond lightly on a flushed cheek as it emerged. Then there was glorious wet heat around him and Sephiroth had to take a deep breath, eyes closing for an instant before opening to stare at the sight of Strife taking him in half-way, cheeks hollowed as the boy sucked hard.

Then Sephiroth just shoved the blond head down, enjoying as the boy nearly gagged. A small part of him filed away the fact that the cadet's teeth never once scraped him.

_Blondes have more fun._

The General fucked Strife's mouth brutally before holding the boy down so that all of himself was between parted lips, the cadet's nose buried deep in Sephiroth's scent. The blond made gagging noises but Sephiroth didn't care, holding him down and tightening his grip in not-so-subtle warning.

He pulled the blond head off just as the cadet's face was turning a mottled purple, letting Strife take a desperate gasp of air before spinning him around and shoving the blond back into the table.

From this angle Sephiroth could see the tip of the balisong peeking out between twin cheeks, and he slapped Strife hard, watching as the pale globes jiggled the weapon inside the boy, enjoying the gasp and moan that his action earned. He hit the blond again, on the other cheek this time, and Strife moaned again, louder.

Then Sephiroth shoved his finger in, moving it in and out languidly as if in counterpoint to the abrupt entry. He watched Strife writhe before him, wriggling his reddened ass tantalizingly, before the General used his other hand, palm spread to encompass one pale globe, index finger teasing an opening that was puckering flirtatiously. He pushed another finger in, twisting, pulling in and out while keeping Strife pinned and spread, enjoying the show and the delicious sounds the panting blond was making before pulling his fingers and the balisong out and rising to his feet.

Strife's whine was aborted as the head of Sephiroth's length nudged against his opening. This time the blond didn't try to mask the sharp intake of breath, didn't try to hide the forced relaxation of a lithe body. Sephiroth kept himself still, for once grateful for the lessons in self-control that had filled his days as a child, before resolving not to think about it  _for now_  and ramming himself into Cloud Strife.

This time the blond cried out.

The sound of his name coming from perfect lips, the feeling of tight, rough heat around his member, the sight of a beautiful body bent taut and quivering over his desk, the knowledge that the door was unlocked and anyone could walk in at anytime…all of it coupled together to give Sephiroth probably the most heady arousal he had ever had in his life.

He took a moment to savor it, breathed it all in, Strife's sobbed breaths filling his ears, before a tangy scent pierced through the haze of desire and made itself known.

Blood.

_You will not forget this._

Grimly he wondered when he'd become such a sadist. He'd always liked it rough, but he had never enjoyed inflicting pain on others. If only because he hated the expression on Hojo's face every time the mad scientist did something to him that would normally cause pain in a human.

_But I'm not human. I'm not like them._

It was a slight movement on Strife's part that brought Sephiroth back from his dark thoughts. The cadet had moved his hips slightly, as though it might help him escape the pain, as though it would negate the fact that this was rape, no matter his earlier arousal.

Sephiroth moved then, slightly at first, stretching the blond, before pulling out a little and thrusting in almost gently, the thick red liquid around his length not exactly optimal lubrication but better than none.

When it seemed the cadet had grown accustomed to Sephiroth's size, the General pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in. Strife screamed again, breath he had been about to take making him choke. Then Sephiroth repeated his actions, this time changing the angle slightly, and Strife cried out – this time in pleasure and pain.

_Gotcha._

Sephiroth switched tactics then, pulling out slowly, painfully slowly, making Strife whimper and move back pleadingly, but Sephiroth held himself still and used his grip on the cadet's hip to still the boy. The breathy whine from Strife was music to his member, and when Strife tightened the muscles around Sephiroth the General almost lost it.

_Slutty little blond, aren't you?_

The General didn't care, easing back in slowly, making sure to graze Strife's sweet spot on his way, then pulling back out equally slowly and making sure to lightly nudge a certain spot again on his way out. Strife was writhing against the desk now, breathy moans and pants coming louder and louder, but the blond hadn't begged yet, and Sephiroth so wanted to hear it first.

Deciding to go with a direct route, since Zack liked reminding him crudely about blonds and their thinking capabilities, he grabbed a fistful of soft spikes and yanked back, baring a pale, slender neck – the General wasted no time, nipping at a fluttering pulse barely visible beneath pale skin. Strife moaned louder this time.

"Beg."

The order made Strife shiver deliciously, tightening around Sephiroth even more. The General would have been impressed if he believed that the blond was doing it on purpose, if the cadet was trying to beat the General at his own game.

He bit again, hard, almost breaking skin, before slamming the blond head into the desk. Strife didn't cry out at the rough treatment, so Sephiroth tightened his grip further on slender hips and soft hair.

"Beg for it, slut."

Already tight muscles spasmed around his length, and it was all Sephiroth could do not to just give in to temptation.

"Please…" it was soft and hoarse, Strife's throat working as though to swallow saliva to lubricate a passage dried out by constant pants and moans.

It was the most beautiful song Sephiroth had ever heard.

And that was all he needed, all he could take. He started slamming into the blond hard, knowing the cadet's arousal must be hitting the table painfully with each thrust, not caring because he preferred to grip bruisingly tight on pale hips and golden hair as he fucked the cadet hard.

Strife's moans were getting louder and louder, but Sephiroth wanted to hear the magic word one more time before letting the boy cum.

He stilled suddenly with a quick twist, and Strife screamed in desperate need.

"Please! Please please please General please!"

It was raw, needy, and exactly what Sephiroth had been waiting for.

He obliged then, mostly because he wanted to unload in the boy too. But the cadet didn't need to know that.

He increased his speed, making sure to hit the blond's prostate with each thrust, with each time he pulled out almost fully. Deep, hard, fast, it was how he liked it, and he knew the blond liked it too.

As the blond neared his release, Sephiroth shoved his face harder into the table, before yanking the boy's head back and arching him painfully. The General bent slightly, still thrusting, biting hard on a pale neck and drawing blood this time, even as his hand moved forward to shove two fingers into an open mouth and mimicking the movements of his length.

It was enough to drive the lithe cadet over the edge. Strife screamed Sephiroth's name as he came hard over the usually pristine desk, thick white liquid splattering onto smudged, crumpled papers and dark wood.

The spasmodic tightening around him, the way the blond was shaking in his release, the echo of his name cried out by perfect lips, it was all too much. Sephiroth held his release off a while more, framing slender hips with both hands, holding tight and just slamming that perfect ass onto his member brutally again and again and again until he finally came, Mako-tinged cum mixing with the cadet's blood and filling the boy with himself.

He bit the blond hard once more, harder than he had before, just so he wouldn't say anything stupid – as far gone as the blond was Strife still gave a shaky, pained moan.

And then Sephiroth woke up.

He was lying face down in his massive bed – thank God he was alone – and he had a fist wrapped around his still-throbbing length, thick warm liquid covering himself and the satin sheets. His heart thundered still, the dream had been so vivid, so real, every thing about Strife so authentic that he swore he could still smell the boy, could still hear Strife's soft pants through his own fast breaths, could still feel soft skin under his hand.

But it was only his satin sheets and himself in his majestic room, and after awhile he rolled over, throwing an arm across his eyes as though that might shield him from the reality that he just had the best imaginary sex of his life with a boy almost 10 years his junior.

Sephiroth really wanted to kill someone.

##

Several buildings away in the Shinra compound, a breathless blond started awake. He was sweating profusely, breath coming in harsh pants, shock at the sudden awareness slowly stilling his shivers. Heartbeat thundering in his ears, Cloud still attempted to listen for the sounds of slumbering bunk-mates, terror at possibly having been heard not helping him calm himself.

He prayed then – prayed that no one had heard him, that no one  _knew_ , and strained his ears as he remained as still and unmoving as possible face-first on his bunk with a mouthful of coarse pillow.

At length his heartbeat and breathing slowed enough, and as he listened to the quiet, steady breaths around him, the slight rustling of movements as some bunkmates shifted positions in their sleep, he calmed more. It didn't seem as though anyone was aware, it didn't seem as though he had woken anyone up. But there was one person who was probably as adept as, if not more than, him at feigning sleep – and Cloud finally allowed himself to shift position and peek at where he knew Reno's bunk was.

It was dark in the bunks, and not for the first time he wished he had his Mako enhancements to back him up, but the glow would give him away too, so he strained his eyes until he thought he could make out the shape of the other boy. There was a steady rise and fall of breath, soft breathing, and the boy was in his regular sleeping position. Cloud still watched for awhile, counting the seconds, knowing that even though the future Turk was good at acting, he had more of something than the red-head: Patience. After five minutes of silent waiting and watching, and only seeing Reno shift a little in his sleep, Cloud deemed it safe enough to rise soundlessly. He padded out of the bunk and down the hallway towards the bathrooms, glancing around cautiously, but no one was awake. He didn't know what time it was but it seemed too dark for this time of year to be his regular waking time.

He washed up as silently and quickly as possible, cursing under his breath at not bringing a change of skivvies because now he'd have to sleep with a wet patch in his underwear, but there was nothing he could do – rummaging for clothes now would likely wake Reno up and he didn't want to have to explain why he was changing out of stained underwear in the dead of the night.

He splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it helping to shake off the last vestiges of the most vivid dream he'd had in years. As he bent over the sink, bracing himself on arms that still quivered slightly, droplets of water slipping and sliding along his face like caresses of a phantom lover, he became aware of a pain in his neck, and a faint but familiar smell.

Glancing in the mirror, his eyes widened in shock, and his heartbeat sky-rocketed again.

There, on his neck, were three sets of perfect bite-marks and blood leaking from two of them. As Cloud stared in shock, they started to heal and close, fading under his alarmed gaze until there was nothing left to prove that it had been anything more than his imagination. He lifted a pale, shaky hand and touched his neck gingerly, as though anything more than the softest of touches might shatter this illusion, and as he watched in the mirror his trembling hand wiped away the blood to reveal pristine, unmarred skin. Cloud didn't want to admit it, but that cold hand wrapped around his heart was more than likely terror now. He was going crazy again, he was seeing things that weren't there again, but as he lifted his hand up to eye-level he could still see the blood on it, could still smell the tang of proof that it hadn't been a dream, that it had been real; but he reminded himself that he of all people should know how well his mind could play tricks on him when fuelled with such strong desire – and the desire HAD been strong – and the only way to know that it was really blood he was seeing on his hand would be to wake another cadet and have them tell him that yes, it was blood.

 _Don't be stupid_.

Except it was hard to be rational when everything that had been happening recently defied all bounds of common sense.

 _Breathe. Just breathe_.

He could do that.

Cloud didn't know how long he stood there, taking deep breaths until his breathing and heartbeat slowed to a reasonable level, until the shaking stopped, until the blood dried and crusted where it had smeared over his palm. The sun would probably be rising soon, and he had to get started on his personal training, but still he found himself immobile before the mirror, staring at the dark marks on his hand and wondering if he should wash it off or keep it as a memento – but that would be delusional, like one of those crazy fans who purchased sweat-stained socks of their idols off stores swearing they were authentic – so he turned the tap back on and scratched the blood off with his fingernails.

When he looked back up in the mirror, it was just him – hair slightly mussed – but just him. No marks, no blood, nothing out of the ordinary.

_Just a dream._

He pushed away the twinge of  _something_  at that thought. Time to train.

_Goodbye my Almost Lover._

The next lines of the song were too depressingly true to think about. A good workout was what he needed.

Cloud refused to think about the workout he'd just had. It wasn't real. It was just wishful thinking.

It was wonderful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N (1): I normally post only upon reaching 20,000+ words. But I've been so swamped that to even get this far took me forever. And I've had no time to work on it more so thank you for understanding! I've been trying to get back to this fic but sometimes when I'm so busy thinking about work (when I'm not at work) it's hard to get the momentum going for this fic.
> 
> A/N (2): Quick reminder: the Keysi Fighting Method was used in Batman Begins and The Dark Knight. I've kept with the Batman references because I'm a fan.
> 
> A/N (3): I wasn't actually around for the 70's, but I referenced the many protests of the era in the hand-to-hand training bit.
> 
> A/N (4): The "pretty little cadet" line in the SephCloud section was taken off a review by Axiam – "one day, [Sephiroth] won't be able to resist the urge to just jump the pretty cadet". I liked it so much I had to use it.
> 
> A/N (5): SephCloud goodness for everyone! Just because I couldn't wait for them to shaggy-shaggy-boom-boom either – so sue me but they're HOT together and this IS a SephCloud fic.
> 
> A/M (6)*** NEW!: I've had a few reviews about how uncomfortable it would be if Seph used an unsheathed blade on Cloud. I apologize for not making this clearer before - the balisong/butterfly knife is like a pocket/switch blade. The blades are hidden in the handles, and unless they are unlatched they stay safely hidden.
> 
> A/N (7): The "breathe, just breathe" thought line is from the song by Anna Nalick entitled "Breathe" – the first line of the song is a reference to the estimated time that Cloud woke from the "dream".
> 
> A/N (8): "Almost Lover" by A Fine Frenzy – the lines after "Goodbye my Almost Lover" are "goodbye my hopeless dream/ I'm trying not to think about it/ can't you just let me be/ so long my luckless romance/ my back is turned on you/ should've known you'd just bring me heartache/ almost lovers always do".
> 
> A/N (9): As I'm an intensely visual person, I've been meaning to draw a picture of Cloud and the boys in class – looking all gangster and cool, leaning back in the back row, and just being awesome. But again - Real Life got in my way. Would anyone else be able to do it?
> 
> A/N (10): I have decided to go pro – and I'd like to thank you all for giving me the confidence I needed to chase my dreams of becoming a writer. I WILL be continuing this story, and I'll see it through to the end since Cloud deserves a happy ending - and I'm not rich enough to buy SquareEnix and force them to do my bidding (yet) but I will also be focusing on writing my own original novel, so updates might come less frequently (as if they already aren't) here. See you all next chapter!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warning for this chapter: BDSM, orgy, kink, swearing, mature themes, and yaoi. Also Cloud with people other than the usual suspects. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.

_Something's up._

Zack peered at his silver-haired commanding officer, who for all intents and purposes was sound asleep. But Zack knew Sephiroth knew that Zack was staring at him for the hundredth time today, seeking answers to questions Zack hadn't yet figured out how to ask, but eventually would. It was a game they always played - one that Sephiroth and Zack never knew who won. Sephiroth had patience in spades, was as tightly controlled as a coiled spring that could launch with all the suddenness and ferocity of a jaguar, "he who kills with one leap", that predatory cat considered peerless in the animal kingdom for its ambushing abilities. But Zack, though not as skilled at waiting, had something else: tenacity.

It was that and an uncanny resourcefulness that had seen him rise through the ranks of SOLDIER at a rate second only to The Tantalizing Trio of the Amazing Angeal, Glorious Genesis, and Supremely Sublime Sephiroth. Well, Zack was pretty sure his own good looks and charm had played a part in his rapid ascendance. Who  _could_ resist him?

_Angeal._

Zack's mouth turned down at the memory of his mentor. Angeal, usually so indulgent and patient, usually giving in to Zack's demands, had turned and left Zack behind, despite the younger man's pleas.

_Guess he didn't care about you as much as you thought he did._

He clenched his fists, brought them down on his knees hard. It hurt, and it helped to snap him back to reality and more immediate concerns. He glanced at Sephiroth again, who hadn't moved a muscle since Zack had last checked. The man resembled a marble statue more than a living person, sometimes.

_Like David. Only prettier and more bad-ass._

Zack stifled a chuckle at the thought of Sephiroth all nude and posing in a museum. The General was more likely to kill every living person in sight and burn the place down before that happened.

Feeling better now, he settled back slightly. The walls were cold, even insulated as they were. But Zack was Brigadier General for a reason - and he knew he just had to keep his focus off the cold.

It helped that he and Sephiroth were seated almost face to face in this tiny container that could barely fit two SOLDIERs. Zack's mind wandered back to the problem of Sephiroth's current behavior, and the man's silence on the matter. Zack would get his answers eventually, he was sure of that. In the meantime, he would let Sephiroth believe he actually believed he was asleep.

Alright, who was he kidding. There was no way in hell anyone could actually sleep through this violent journey while serenaded by a howling storm. Zack couldn't - and he could sleep anywhere (all SOLDIERS could - it was something they learned to do after their first few missions, when any flat surface or anything that would hold their weight promised a brief respite from the brutalities of war).

So he settled for glaring daggers at Sephiroth, uncaring of the fact that it was just the two of them headed on this insane mission in the middle of nowhere and that Sephiroth could easily just slaughter him and leave him to rot. He didn't know why Sephiroth had chosen to be on this mission - and why he had chosen to bring Zack, who was second in command and who should technically (according to their Continuity Protocols) be back in Midgar holding down the fort ready to step up as the General's replacement should he perish. Not that the General would actually perish, perish the thought. But Zack really wanted to be back home in his warm, fluffy bed surrounded by wanton bed partners who liked sex more than they needed food. Instead of being strapped to this cold metal container that was being dragged through sludge and snow, over rocky hills and crevasses, so that the container (with him and Sephiroth inside) could then be unceremoniously dropped into a raging sea to be buffeted by waves higher than the Shinra Tower.

Sephiroth had his moments of insanity. This was one of them.

_Something's DEFINITELY up._

The General wouldn't go bat-shit like this for no reason. Zack hoped it had something to do with Cloud. And that Sephiroth found a better way to deal with it - like hooking up with the little blond.

_My insurance doesn't cover PMS._

##

_Something's up._

Reno was staring at a very wet t-shirt clinging to a very lithe back that was getting farther and farther ahead of him. Cloud didn't usually run like Cerberus was chasing him, usually kept a decent pace that was punishing but not brutal. Today, though, Cloud left them all in the dust the minute Payne blew his whistle, and it was all Reno could do to keep Cloud directly in front of him and not allow the little blond to lap him. Which would probably happen soon at the rate his chest was screaming at him, heart threatening to burst out like those angry baby aliens in that movie with the badass chick.

_Express elevator to hell, going down._

The stitch in his side was becoming a serious hindrance, reminding Reno of the time he'd been unable to outrun his pursuers, and had been cornered as a scrawny kid in the alleys by a group of druggies on a trip that had believed he was a werewolf out to eat their jollies.

_For fuck's sake._

Reno really didn't want to remember that incident. It was one of the more painful parts of a bleak past. But it had taught him a valuable lesson.

_Life sucks._

Except it hadn't really sucked in a while. Not since Cloud's little attitude change, actually.

_Yeah, about that…_

Looking up and around from where he'd been glaring daggers at the ground, Reno realized the distance between himself and Cloud had grown. The blond was now half a lap ahead of him. He tried to speed up but his body refused to cooperate, every inch of him screeching a cacophony of pain, as he tried to make himself believe his vision wasn't blurring, and it wasn't a ringing he was hearing in his ears.

_Faster. Have to go faster. Don't let them catch you. They'll hurt you if they catch you. Faster. FASTER. RUN RUN RUN!_

Unbidden, memories of the jeers and taunts the druggies had spat at him when they were beating him came to fore.

_"Mangy mutt!"_

" _Worthless fucking trash!"_

"… _son of a bitch ass whore!"_

" _Pieces of shit should just eat shit!"_

He could smell the stench of the urine, sweat and faeces that infused most alleyways in the slums. The scent of metal from the omnipresent Plate. The smoke and gases from the reactors.

The ringing in his ears was now a buzzing throng: jeers, taunts, curses, vulgarities. Gangs hawking stolen wares, prostitutes hawking their bodies, pushers hawking drugs. Everyone promising that if you spent your gil with them, they'd make everything better. Paradise or oblivion, if only for a few hours.

Reno had never believed in paradise. All he'd ever wanted was oblivion. Which sounded like paradise right now actually.

A slap to the back jolted him out of his reverie, and belatedly he realized he was bent almost in half, about to keel over from the effort of trying to catch up with Cloud. He turned sluggishly to the side, even this slightest of efforts draining him, wondering who it was who'd hit him, who it was who wanted to fight to the death over the scraps Reno called his.

Only to see a mottled sweaty creature vaguely resembling Ralph nearly hyperventilating with the effort of keeping his legs moving. Ralph caught his eye, and somehow amidst the downright asthmatic huffing and puffing managed to wheeze: "Chin up. C'mon."

Reno just stared blankly, not even realizing his legs were continuing to pump, not realizing he was straightening up and that the pain in his side no longer consumed him.

A fist bumped his left bicep, and he turned tiredly - prepared for a fist to the face because that's usually what came next in the slums. Instead he was confronted with a red humanoid that may have been Ray if it wasn't for the exertion causing him to become more akin to a boiled tomato.

Ray's lips moved when he made eye contact with Reno. Somewhere in his exhausted mind Reno thought it was supposed to be an encouraging smile but it looked more like a grimace. He supposed Ray understood he understood though, because the brunette gave him a nod and started to overtake him while sounding like a Shinra train with busted pipes.

As Ray went on ahead in a valiant but futile attempt to close the gap between Cloud and the rest of the cadets, Jared took his place beside Reno. The other blond in their group didn't look nearly as wiped out as the rest of them. Reno wondered if this was why blonds had more fun.

"…shoulders back, eyes forward" belatedly Reno realized Jared was talking to him. "Just keep swimming."

The red-head would have smirked and made a snarky comment about Jared quoting a chronic amnesiac aquatic organism if he had any energy left in him.

As it was, he nodded, and turned back towards the front.

It seemed Ray's struggles weren't futile after all, with the brunette slowly starting to close the gap with Cloud.

Gritting his teeth, Reno somehow found the strength to move just a little faster. The pain in his side was fading to a dull throb. The shrieks from his past fading into silence.

_Just keep swimming._

Reno was gonna get Cloud back for this if it was the last thing he did. Or just fuck him hard on training nights so the blond would have trouble walking the next day.

_Let's shag ass._

##

No sign of Zack at all.

Cloud wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved. He missed the black haired man constantly, longed for any chance to see him and speak to him (whether or not said dark haired man was accompanied by a silver haired one didn't matter, he told himself firmly). But at the same time it was unnerving having those familiar yet foreign eyes on him - exhausting to stay on guard, wondering if he'd been caught out somehow, if he'd been figured out, wondering if Zack still cared about him the way he had in the future.

Yet with no sighting of the black haired man all morning, Cloud was beginning to get worried. There would usually be a hint of spiky black hair somewhere, or word that someone had spotted everyone's favourite Brigadier General skulking about.

Was Zack alright? Had he eaten too much of that spicy Wutaian dish he'd raved about before? Was he away on a mission? Was he injured?

…or was he no longer interested in Cloud?

_Stop it, just stop it._

Honestly, if there was an award for most morose, he'd win hands down. He supposed he was too tired - he'd pushed himself harder than usual in his personal training this morning, and again in PT, as if he could run away from what happened last night, as if tiring his body would also tire his mind and make him forget about that non-dream dream, about all the hopes and wishes that had burned in the future, about all those who'd died because he wasn't strong enough, about killing the man he loved twice, about how much he wished the dream had been real (yes, Cloud realized he was a little twisted for thinking that way - and that realization wasn't helping his internal turmoil). It had been sheer will-power that had allowed him to keep moving during hand-to-hand - that and he thanked his lucky stars Reno had been shaking like a polaroid picture throughout and had been unable to move any quicker than an old arthritic lady.

He looked around at the lunch table now, noticing that the others were all more exhausted than usual. Brian had actually collapsed soon after arriving at hand-to-hand training, but had been forced to get back up and participate because Jeffries and Mendez didn't believe in sending cadets to the infirmary for being weaklings. As it was, the kid was struggling to eat - spoon trembling violently and dropping everything back on his plate as he tried to feed himself. Cloud could see Brian becoming more and more frustrated with each failed bite, could see the glossy eyes that indicated the other cadet was holding back tears at how weak he seemed in front of them all.

Just as he was about to reach out and help, a shaking hand came to rest atop Brian's. The Kalm boy glanced up in surprise - it was Jared, who was using his free hand to help keep Brian's steady while the blond struggled with his own meal.

Belatedly, Cloud realized that Ray, Reno, Ralph, Grant, and the others at the table were all facing similar predicaments. He wondered why - then it hit him.

They'd all struggled to catch up with him, pushing themselves harder than ever in an effort to keep pace with his brutal run. Ray and Reno had actually managed to pull up almost alongside him by the end of the run, with Jared and Ralph only several strides behind, the others wobbling in not long after.

 _They pushed themselves this hard because of you_ , a voice whispered in his head.

Cloud wasn't sure what to feel. Responsible? Even though rationally he could argue that he hadn't forced them to keep up, hadn't asked for anything. Maybe guilty because he was the reason for their pain? Because if he had been much further ahead of everyone else, the sadistic Payne would have gleefully meted out punishment on the "pathetic maggots". Then they should have signalled him, asking him to slow down, he thought. Shouldn't have let him keep running like a gold digger towards a millionaire.

 _But that's what friends do,_  the voice whispered again.  _They don't slow you down. They don't try to hold you back. They stay beside you. And you forgot all about them, their needs, their pain. You didn't care. Just thought only of yourself, focusing on your own pain, like it's all that matters in the world. Selfish, self-centred little loser. Can't spare a thought for anyone else, huh? The world revolves ALLLLL around you, like you're the star in some movie or video game. Like you're the hero of this story. But a real leader cares about his people, doesn't make them suffer for selfish reasons. This is why no one wants to be around you, you know. This is why they all leave. Because you're not a leader, not a hero, not a friend. All you bring is suffering. Look at Aeris and Zack._

Cloud's chest clenched and he tightened his jaw. It hurt - the knowledge that he'd been the cause of their pain, and that he'd been too consumed in his own he hadn't once paid attention or tried to make things better. It was just like that time with Zack - when the other man, though weak and injured, had had to protect Cloud, shoulder the burden that was this pathetic loser, end up dying just because Cloud hadn't been able to get over himself and help.

Now he'd done it again. Had hurt the only friends he had in this world. He should have thought of them, should have considered how they felt, should have known better, should have cared more for his friends, should have…

_Oh quit being a whiny brat!_

Another voice this time, the one he'd started to identify as the strong one. He didn't know if he should find it disturbing that he was naming them.

_It's not like anyone died! And how the hell is this all your fault? Why do you always blame yourself?_

Cloud wished the voices would fight it out somewhere else. He was beginning to get a headache - though he knew it wasn't just because of his internal debates. It had been warmer than usual this morning, and he was mildly dehydrated.

_Shouldn't you be happy that they wanted so much to be by your side they pushed themselves this hard? Shouldn't you be glad that you served as a reason for improvement? Shouldn't you be grateful that you have friends who don't blame you, no matter what trouble you cause?_

The vice around his heart loosened. It was true, Cloud realized, looking around at the others again. Not one of them blamed him or resented him for running faster than usual on the track and during suicide drills. Not one of them had given him a dirty look or said anything nasty, whether during or after PT (though the silence could be attributed to the fact that they were desperately trying to draw air from whichever orifice they could). No one had called him a boot-licker or a show-off or trouble-maker for causing all of them to work harder or face the Gunny's wrath.

A nudge to his side, a voice from far away that Cloud realized had been Ray's when he focused on the brunette. When Cloud blinked and looked at him apologetically, Ray gave him a slight smile and asked (again, Cloud assumed): "You OK?"

Cloud stared at him.

Ray was asking if he was alright.

It wasn't Cloud that anyone should worry about. Ray should be worrying about himself - the brunette had turned deathly pale midway through KFM training, when the redness of his skin finally faded, his dark brown hair matted with sweat starkly contrasting with the unnatural pallor of his face and lips, pupils little more than pinpricks in too-pale eyes. And he'd been unsteady on his feet, light silver eyes glassy…he had pushed himself harder than ever too, just like the rest of them, almost catching up with Cloud who had private PT and years of mental training to back him up.

Voices around him, and Cloud struggled to focus. Even before the words permeated the fog in his brain, the tired but teasing tones told him all he needed to know.

His classmates…no, his  _friends_  weren't mad or upset. They didn't blame him or anyone.

"…award at graduation," Ralph was saying to Jared while indicating Cloud with his head.

"Get him one of those little bells that we can tie around his neck and ring for attention," Reno laughed.

"Bet you'd lurrrrrve to make him your lil' get-lucky kitty-cat," Jared leered.

Ray laughed, looked at Cloud and realized he was back with them, grinned at him and nudged him again. "Cloudy Cloudy," the brunette winked. Then his expression lost some of its levity, and the little vice started to tighten around Cloud's heart again but it vanished upon hearing the brunette's next words. "Seriously though, are you OK? You pushed yourself harder than I've ever seen, AND you're spacing out more than usual. Want us to get you to the infirmary?"

Cloud told himself that he never wanted anyone to worry about him. That he was strong and independent and tough and resilient, and the one person in the future world who could definitively say that he could take any amount of lickin' and still keep tickin'. But if he were honest with himself, his lips trembled slightly as he stared wordlessly at Ray. And if he were really honest with himself he'd admit his eyes felt a little warm and his vision was a little blurry.

He looked back at his plate, wondered why his throat felt funny and had to be cleared a little.

"I'm OK."

Cloud refused to look at the others for the rest of lunch, dedicated himself to scarfing down whatever it was that had been served, committed himself to memorizing every speck and scratch on his lunch tray, didn't say another word even though his name was called several times and he knew he was acting like a brat.

The warm hand that rested solidly on his back, a bony knee that pressed against his under the table, and the light-hearted talk going on around him told him it was alright.

##

_Just keep swimming. I'm gonna kill these damn blonds._

Reno grumbled to himself internally as he came out of the water for air before plunging back in and forcing his legs to kick harder lest he be left behind by Cloud. Who, after a surprisingly emotional (well, as emotional as he'd ever seen the little blond) moment at the lunch table, had become a fish on Speed in the water as soon as they got to swimming class.

He couldn't see where the others were, his goggles fogging up and the impact from a bunker-full of hustling cadets creating so much splashing that any observer must wonder if it was a jacuzzi-type wave pool, and not a swimming pool.

The red-head reached the end of the lap and flip-turned with practiced ease. Privately he marvelled at how adept he'd become in the water. He'd only learned to swim at cadet training, and it was only his ability to mimic, and his stubborn pride, that had gotten him through the first few classes. That and private training - it helped that he had quick fingers and knew how to make duplicate keys.

Swimming alone in a huge, still body of water in the dark hadn't been pleasant - and Reno had no doubt the mummy's boys at training would have turned tail and ran in fear of imaginary vengeful spirits from the silver screen. But Reno was a hood rat, he'd grown up tough, fighting and scrabbling to survive. He didn't have the luxury of believing in things like ghosts and gods. Not when the slums were an abandoned kid's battlefield everyday for food, a place to sleep, a chance to make some money and maybe, just maybe, make a better life for himself. So he'd trained until he had been able to stay ahead of half the bunker. That had been good enough, in his opinion. He was plenty fly in other areas of cadet training, he'd reasoned.

Then that idiot chocobo had spazzed, and suddenly "good enough" wasn't even close.

_Just keep swimming. I hate cartoons. I hate fish that talk. I hate fish that walk. I hate that damned Strife._

Gritting his teeth, he flip-turned again, not even stopping to check where Cloud or the others were, or if he was in the top or bottom average of training. He was afraid if he stopped he wouldn't be able to get his body to start moving again.

At length, a horn pierced through all the splashing and echoing in the hall, and cadets slowly came to a halt wherever they were in the pool, gratefully gasping for breath and adjusting to breathing normally. Reno chanced a glance around as he tried to make the water take as much of his weight as possible - this morning had been tiring enough, and he didn't trust his legs to keep him upright, not even standing as he was in the water.

Cloud was hard to spot, given they'd all been made to wear swim caps and the blond was still the most petite and delicate of the bunch. He removed the standard-issue goggles, kept looking around at cadets scattered across the massive pool built to accommodate 16 teenagers doing laps at once, spotting the familiar pretty face on the other end of the pool after Grant suddenly cried out, spasmed, flailed, and went under. Said pretty face's eyes widened upon seeing the massive Corel boy sink, and before Reno or anyone could react the blond had dived back under the surface fluidly and silently.

_Like a little mermaid. Like a fucking fish!_

Reno stared at the spot where the blond and Grant should be, vaguely registering the clamoring of instructors, seeing lifebuoys hastily thrown into the pool narrowly missing Jared and Ray as they pulled themselves towards Grant's last location with strong strokes.

_Where are those bastards getting that kinda energy from, dammit? I want what they're sniffing._

Cloud and Grant still hadn't come up for air, and belatedly Reno realized that Grant had been at the diving end of the pool. Which meant that while Reno could feel the tiles beneath him, could stand with his shoulders slightly above the water, Cloud was trying to reach a boy three times his size who was several meters below the surface.

More splashes, and Reno realized some of them were from him as he swam towards where he thought his friends would be, goggles forgotten and heavily chlorinated water stinging his eyes. Someone collided into his shoulder, and he turned to spare a glare, strokes stalling slightly at the sight of Tranton rushing to the aid of Cloud and Grant, despite the Kalm boy being one of the worst swimmers in the group. Reno recalled Brian had mentioned something about having a weak constitution as a child leading to him being kept away from anything that might cause him to be hospitalized, so he was surprised to see the light-brown haired kid trying to help when the deep end of the pool had always terrified him.

If Reno were being honest with himself, he was…pretty impressed.

_No time for that. Just keep swimming._

Cloud and Grant were still down there. Reno dove down when he was near enough, barely registering the pain in his eyes, saw bubbles and flailing limbs, felt something tighten in his gut, kicked his legs and pulled with his arms as hard as he could, not caring if Tranton or anyone behind him had gotten a Reno foot-special.

_Just keep swimming. Just keep swimming. C'mon Cloud - you're supposed to be Batman!_

When he was near enough, he realized half their bunker was already at the bottom of the pool - and that they were trying to calm Grant down to stop him sinking and pulling at them. Jared and Ray were holding onto the Corel boy's arms, Ralph was trying to pry Grant's grip from another cadet's face, other cadets were trying to keep Grant's legs from kicking them, and Cloud…

Cloud was behind Grant trying to pull the boy up by holding his underarms, but Grant's size and panic were causing Cloud to lose his grip and get knocked back from the melee.

Reno recalled what he'd seen a street doctor do to a gangbanger who'd been shot and was panicking - grappling and gurgling and struggling to hold on to his miserable life, impeding the doctor's attempts to help. It had worked then, no reason why it wouldn't work now.

Swimming up to the Corel boy, Reno let himself float slightly higher, before stomping as hard as he could on Grant's face.

_Don't get mad, big man. Just tryin' to help._

It worked - Grant stopped panicking long enough to realize the other cadets were trying to pull him to safety, and with the cessation of his flailing and consumption of water, Bunker 7 managed to pull the Corel boy to the surface quickly.

They got him out of the pool and onto a stretcher somehow - despite the boy's size and weight, and despite the pool water causing their grips to slip. Their instructor, Corporal Thorpe, was administering first aid while his assistant Hasselhoff radio'd in to the infirmary when Reno noticed it.

Cloud's mouth had twisted into a hard, miserable line, and his eyes, reddened from the chlorine, had darkened in guilt and self-hatred. Reno didn't need to wonder why - he'd known Cloud had blamed himself for their exhaustion at lunch. He didn't know why - it wasn't like anyone had died, and any one of them could have easily told him to slow down if they really wanted him to. But he'd known from the minute he'd woken up and watched Cloud at his personal training that something was different today - that the blond was trying desperately to outrun something inside him. And Reno knew that feeling, knew what it was like when no matter how hard he tried to break away and flee, the claws of guilt and shame and pain just clenched harder.

So he'd given every cadet who'd attempted to ask Cloud to slow down a warning look, Brian being the first to receive one. He hadn't needed to warn Ray, Ralph and Jared, of course - the three of them were extraordinarily astute and wise enough to realize what was going on.

Which was odd, especially when it came to Ray, because that kid was supposed to be a pampered, sheltered little prince.

Reno moved toward Cloud as though pulled by an invisible string, casually slung his left arm around tense shoulders, watched the blond out of the corner of his eye.

"He'll be alright."

The hard line of Cloud's face was receding, but not because the blond actually believed him, Reno knew. How he knew with absolute certainty that Cloud was simply trying to hide his emotions, he wasn't sure. But he chalked it up to all the time they'd spent together recently, and that Reno was the only person on base who could claim to know Cloud intimately.

_I'm not getting a fucking boner by the fucking pool in my fucking trunks, God dammit._

Taking a deep breath, tightening his grip on Cloud's shoulders and giving him a light shake, Reno focused on imagining Gunny Payne prancing about in a yellow polka-dot bikini.

Dimly he was aware of a weight against his left forearm, heard more voices pitched low, tones warm and encouraging. As he felt his arousal fade, he looked and realized the gang had surrounded Cloud and were murmuring calming words to the distraught cadet, Ralph leaning against Cloud on the other side and rubbing the blond's back comfortingly. Cloud's head was down, a technique Reno was starting to recognize as Cloud not trusting his face not to betray his emotions, his style of retreating into a shell in order to strengthen his mask.

_Like a blond tortoise._

His focus on Cloud meant the dark feet that suddenly stepped into his peripheral vision surprised Reno. He cursed himself for the lull in defence, forced away memories of when mistakes like that had cost him dearly in the slums.

Coughing, and a low, rumbling voice hoarse from swallowing too much pool water filled the air.

"Ain't your fault, Boss."

The huddle jerked their heads up collectively, Cloud having to actually lean slightly backwards in order to look Grant in the eye this close.

… _Boss?_

Their expressions must have been comical, Reno assumed, because the edges of Grant's thick lips twitched up even as he coughed some more.

Clearing his throat, the Big Friendly Giant wheezed again: "S'aint your fault, Boss. My back cramps up sometimes from my old wrestling injury. And I ain't born around the sea or any pools so…."

Reno heard the words, digested them somehow while only one thing remained forefront in his mind.

… _the short, pretty little hillbilly's the huge, tough hillbilly's Boss?_

Reno needed a drink. He was pretty sure everyone else did too. And it was only Wednesday - drinking tonight was not a good idea. Not with Payne on the menu at 0730 tomorrow.

It seemed Grant's rumbling had helped ease Cloud's guilt, if the loosening of the shoulders under Reno's arm was any indication. Reno chanced a glance at the blond, saw how the lines of his face had smoothed, but was quick enough to catch the flicker of self-recrimination still burning in those baby blues.

He gave Ray a look, and the brunette nodded. Ray would round the others of their posse up later, enlist their aid in getting Cloud to lose the damn weight of the world from his shoulders, and stop beating himself up over every little thing.

Reno shook Cloud's shoulders once more, gave Grant a light punch on the bicep. "Thanks, big guy. No hard feelings, aight? We good?"

Grant coughed some more, nodded, held his massive paw out for a fist bump. "We good, brother."

_Blondie's 'Boss', and this Fly Guy's 'brother'?!_

His fist moved on its own to meet Grant's. Reno really needed a drink. He couldn't wait for Friday, and their bunker-to-bunker dance-off.

_Shake it off, shake it off._

##

Zack cursed as they trudged through the snow and sleet, shivering and wondering why Mako and all the enhancements couldn't stop him feeling cold.

But he supposed the lab rats hadn't anticipated their SOLDIERS would be swimming in sub-zero raging torrents before hiking up a mountain in a snowstorm.

He cursed again under his breath as a particularly strong gust of wind brought more snow to slap against the back of his head, with some of it slipping down between his collar and neck to lodge at his nape. He hadn't brought a beanie or a scarf, hadn't brought anything warmer than a coat because he was a SOLDIER First Class and this weather wasn't normal - not even for the Northern Crater.

It had taken them a full 24 hours to get here from Midgar - they'd switched transports in Junon, though as expected even this retrofitted chopper hadn't been able to get them close to the Crater due to the freak storm, so they'd been set down as near as possible, strapped into the container, dragged by modified snow plow to a cliff where Intelligence had calculated the frigid currents would batter them up and around the Icicle Area to arrive at the north of the Northern Crater. Times like these he wondered if Intelligence knew how ironic their moniker was.

 _Tomorrow's Friday…but no TGIF for me this week_ , Zack mused forlornly.

He looked up, peering through the sleet that buffeted his face with wet frosty flakes. In the storm, he could barely make out his commanding officer before him - Sephiroth's black battle suit blending in with the night, his silver hair seeming as one with the snow when the weak light of the crescent moon flickered through the clouds. The General's pace hadn't slowed once, the cold didn't seem to register as he walked through knee-high snow with all the grace of a winged lingerie model on a glittering catwalk.

 _Strutting his style, as always,_  Zack thought to himself in amusement.  _Once a badass, always a badass._

He picked up his pace, determined to prove he was a worthy Brigadier General, even though no one was watching. If he didn't make it second nature, if he didn't make it who he was, there was a chance he might slip in front of his men during a crisis. He couldn't risk it - not when so many men had worked so hard, sacrificed so much, were willing to sacrifice so much more at a single word from him.

He had to be better, stronger, faster, smarter - for them. For all the hopes and dreams they wanted to make reality, for the kids they would have, the happy lives they would lead.

He'd always wanted to be someone's hero. If not as Prince Charming, then as a knight in shining amor.

_Delusions of grandeur, much?_

Zack chuckled darkly to himself, teeth chattering and making him sound like a wonky wound up toy. There was nothing shiny about him, excepting his eyes which glowed thanks to Mako. And the Buster Sword he carried, strapped to his back to remind him of the weight of his responsibilities, always gleaming thanks to his almost-obsessive polishing and sharpening.

It was Angeal's after all. Zack was only looking after it, at least until Angeal came back.

A sudden strong gust caught him off guard in mid-step, and he stumbled slightly. He looked up, checking to see if Sephiroth had seen that very ungraceful moment. But the General was carrying on in front of him, and the gap between them was widening.

_Guess I'll never be good enough, huh?_

Zack's mouth turned down. He'd always felt a little like a fraud, unfit to stand where his mentor had once stood. He wasn't worthy, had never been able to beat Angeal or Genesis, let alone Sephiroth. What right did he have to be second in command, when he was flopping about in this snowstorm struggling to even keep his footing, shivering like a wet puppy in the cold? It had been his dream to become someone strong enough to protect others, someone who could care for everyone else and keep them safe from harm. He'd joined SOLDIER to do that, and by all accounts he'd achieved it as Brigadier General at such a young age.

But he knew he'd only been promoted because a vacancy needed filling. There'd been a leadership gap, and he'd been next in line.

He wasn't a hero, he'd never be anyone's hero. Heroes didn't do the things he'd done in the name of SOLDIER, Duty and World Peace.

He started to take another step, struggled against the cold suction that had taken hold of his calf and feet, managed to yank his right leg up above the snow, and this time another gust of wind surged towards him, snow blanketing his face and making him fall backwards towards his left, unbalanced from the combined assault of wind and cold flakes that had momentarily blinded him while shocking his system.

A dull clang, and suddenly the Buster Sword was propping him up against a large rock he hadn't noticed while emo-ing in the storm.

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit if I've dented it Angeal's gonna KILL me!_

Hurriedly Zack stood, removing the Buster Sword from its holster and bringing it up before him to check for dents and scratches. He wondered why the Buster Sword was trembling so violently, wished it would hold still, then realized it was because he was shaking from the cold - clothing wet from the swim freezing over against his skin, glacial winds wrapping him in icy frost.

It was hard to tell with the wind and snow, with no light source but a thin moon whose light blinked in and out from behind the clouds. As Zack inspected the Buster Sword, the moonlight peeked out again, and for a moment the wind stilled.

The Buster Sword gleamed.

_Zack…embrace your dreams._

His eyes felt warm, then cold. It WAS sub-zero on the mountain after all. He rubbed the moisture away, sniffed, reholstered the broadsword.

It wasn't that cold. Nothing Zack Fair couldn't handle.

##

Possibly Jared's favorite sleeping position, Cloud thought with amusement as he glanced at the other blond out of the corner of his eye. The taller cadet had fallen asleep on Cloud and was drooling on his shoulder again.

Well, he could understand why. The cadets had had navigation class earlier, and the theories about figuring out where you were and where you were headed on land and sea were enough to bore most to tears. It didn't help that everyone believed they'd have GPS units or cellphones with them constantly.

Cloud knew it wasn't always the case though. That there would be times when you'd wake up somewhere, stranded and disoriented, with no map or landmarks nearby. That there would be missions that banned the use of any technology lest they give one's position away. That it always made you feel better knowing you could find your way home.

But he hadn't said anything, diligently taking down notes and having them swiped by Reno as soon as he lifted his hand from the book.

Interestingly, Navigation was the one class that Jared never needed Cloud's notes for.

Cloud glanced at the other blond again. Jared was fast asleep, had slept through all of Navigation as well. Now they were being lectured on the Army Code of Conduct and Military Justice System, and Cloud was bored silly. But he needed to keep up appearances - wouldn't do for him to sleep in class. Plus with his habit of disregarding the rules (Barrett started it) he actually needed to pay attention in this class - if he recalled correctly, he'd barely scraped by the last time. Then again, he'd barely scraped by on everything last time - JUST qualifying for the regular army and falling short of SOLDIER by a thousand miles.

As Cloud scribbled out detail after detail, his thoughts unwittingly turned back to the "intervention" the others had staged last night. He'd been in the bathroom getting ready for bed when Reno, Ralph, Ray, Jared and Brian had suddenly surrounded him. Cloud could have sworn that before he closed his eyes to splash water on his face there had been other cadets around. But after he'd wiped his face dry with a towel and opened his eyes…

" _Hey, boss-man," Ralph had grinned._

" _Always happy to be under you," Jared winked._

_Cloud had raised an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. Was it really going to be a gang-bang on a Wednesday night? Not possible - Brian The Prudish Protector of Propriety was there. Maybe if it was a Friday._

_Cloud was spending far too much time with Reno._

_An arm around his shoulder and a familiar weight against his side. Reno's voice was low, and he seemed to be deliberately breathing his words into Cloud's ear._

" _So…we got a problem, Blondie."_

_Cloud had turned to look at him, trying not to tense up, fighting the urge to fight. He'd looked at Reno questioningly, body deliberately loose and relaxed, but ready to defend himself any moment. While trying to keep his hormones at bay. Damned teenage boys. And damned Reno and his come-hither tone._

_Ray from his other side: "Yup and it's you."_

_Cloud turned to look at the brunette, couldn't help tensing slightly, could feel his face closing off and his eyes hardening._

_Suddenly Brian was in front of him, light brown eyes wide and beseeching: "We're worried, Cloud."_

_Cloud froze. Worried? About him? He hadn't been expecting that. What was there to worry about? Had something happened that he wasn't aware of? This hadn't happened before, he had no memories to go on, no experience to guide him and make him feel more confident than he actually was..._

_Reno interrupted his racing thoughts. "You take the blame for every shitty thing that happens, you know that?"_

" _And you'll never take credit for anything great you do," Ralph added._

" _So this is an 'intervention' to get you up!" Jared cheerfully chimed in._

_Intervention? Wasn't that what always happened on one of those perpetually sobbing and screeching TV shows?_

_Cloud was horrified. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he'd be the target of an intervention. This was far too dramatic for his tastes. He needed to escape STAT._

_An arm around his waist, and Cloud turned to see Ray's striking features up close, his thick dark lashes casting shadows on pale gray eyes. "What we mean is, we hate seeing you upset. AND no one's upset with you. And no one blames you. At all. About anything. 'Mmkay?"_

" _Yeah!" Brian had clearly not been given any more lines in this skit._

_Cloud just stared, speechless, all thoughts of fleeing having fled his mind. All thoughts in general having fled his mind at this turn of events._

_This…what…_

_He hadn't realized he'd hung his head, or that his eyes were moist. But he was aware of warm hands ruffling his hair, rubbing his back comfortingly, patting his cheeks, as light-hearted voices called him a crybaby and ragged each other about their winnings._

_Bastards BET on this?_

Then as now, Cloud felt the corners of his lips tugging upwards as he thought back to that incident. While it had been downright embarrassing, mortifying even, it kinda felt like his heart had become a perky baby chocobo squawking with glee as it leapt up and down.

_So this is what it feels like…_

Not that AVALANCHE hadn't loved him, Cloud knew. Tifa, Barrett, Vincent, Cid…all of them would willingly lay their lives down for him. Worried about him constantly, tried their best to make him happy. But that was in a future where there was no happiness for Cloud. Not the one he wanted anyway.

_Greedy, much?_

_Oh, shut up._

The voices were at it again. Cloud groaned internally, pulled himself back to the present with force. Ray and Ralph were talking about tomorrow night's dance-off, and Reno was humming some sort of tune next to him. Brian seemed a little nervous, and if Cloud wasn't so concerned about keeping up appearances he'd let him know he was as well.

He'd seen people dance before, of course. The wild and gyrating kind, the fluid and well-practiced kind, the spontaneous and joyous kind. Had had numerous women dance up against him before, rubbing their breasts on his arms and chest and back, looking at him sultrily. But he'd felt nothing but alarm and disgust. They weren't the ones he wanted pressing against him. It made him feel dirty, used. Like he was nothing more than an object of physical desire, something to sate lust and then discard.

It reminded him of Corneo and Hojo.

At the thought of the mad scientist, the familiar knot of fear, hatred and revulsion took hold in his core. Cloud wanted to hurl, scream, cry, shout, destroy…anything but remember what he'd been through at the madman's hands. Corneo hadn't done much to Cloud, but even the memory of those beady eyes and porky hands roving was enough to make him want to go postal.

He was yanked from his dark thoughts when Jared gave a little wriggle, rubbing his face into Cloud's neck. The taller blond's hands roved - on purpose, Cloud assumed - one coming to rest on Cloud's crotch, the other at his butt.

Reno, Ralph and Ray were snickering. Brian just looked scandalized.

Cloud ignored them and focused on taking notes for everyone else to mooch off later. But he couldn't ignore the fact that he was smiling ever so slightly.

_Boys, it's a wonderful thing._

##

_Well, that went well._

Sephiroth focused on his breathing, kept himself still and silent as Zack heaved dead beasts and boulders off him. The younger man looked close to tears, and though blood obscured the General's already blurry vision, he could still make out the guilt and self-hatred and panic in those deep blue eyes.

_Zachary…_

It really wasn't the black-haired man's fault. Sephiroth had known this mission would result in injuries, possibly fatalities if it were anyone other than himself and Zack executing it. An extreme freak storm, sub-zero temperatures, unexplained seismic phenomenon, overpowered monsters, summoned creatures, Genesis clones and several Wutaian Imperial Guard regiments at once?

Sephiroth had always loved a challenge.

When he'd gotten word of the possibility of Genesis working with Wutai, he'd planned on sending Zack with a team of Firsts to investigate. But a second report on the other factors at play by Intelligence had stilled his hand just as he was dialing Zack's number. It wasn't that he didn't trust Zack, didn't trust his Firsts. They were fine SOLDIERs, men he was proud to lead, fearless warriors who were willing to lay down their lives at a single word from him.

He just wouldn't be able to live with himself if he let Angeal's puppy die. He'd made Angeal a promise - even though he hadn't said it to the other man, had only promised the Angeal in his heart - that he would do anything in his power to protect Zack from mortal harm. Though technically that meant firing the man from SOLDIER. But Sephiroth couldn't do that - Zack was the only person left around him whom he felt comfortable with.

_Selfish bastard, aren't you?_

Sephiroth pushed that thought away. Didn't want to consider the fact that he hadn't included other Firsts because he hadn't wanted the men he was so close to to die and leave him with more guilt, more pain. Because if it had been a small team of Firsts here (and Firsts always operated in small teams these days as their battles had turned more guerrilla than open war) instead of him, he would be sending Mortuary Affairs to collect the corpses. He knew that as long as he was the General he would have to make many hard decisions, would have to send more men to their deaths because they were SOLDIERs, but if he could take the hits for them he would.

He didn't want any more to leave. He'd lost enough already. Knew the names of every SOLDIER who had fallen under his command by heart. Kept tabs on their families and made sure they all received the benefits they were due.

It didn't help that he also would never allow his Firsts to see him so badly wounded. He'd known from the start that the probability of injury was high, even for himself. So he'd asked for only Zack to accompany him, because only in front of the other man was he comfortable enough to show that he was still mortal.

_Always gotta be the hero, huh?_

Sephiroth closed his eyes as though to block the pain of remembering his friends, and the times they'd shared. When they were younger, Genesis' comments had been less barbed, Angeal's had always been teasing. It had always been the three of them against the world, just a trio of genetically modified super soldiers trying to pretend they weren't very different from other people their age.

But it hadn't worked, in the end. The house of cards had crumbled. And his friends had left him.

He clenched his jaw, screwed his eyes shut, as though he could block the memories and thoughts by closing off his senses.

"SEPH! HANG IN THERE! DON'T DIE ON ME! I'LL HEAL YOU DON'T WORRY PLEASE DON'T WORRY I'LL SAVE YOU I'LL SAVE YOU I'LL SAVE YOU!" Zack was screaming - partly because the noise of the storm around them necessitated it, partly out of emotion. Sephiroth realized guiltily that he'd looked like he was in pain. He really hadn't wanted to worry the younger man. He was the General after all. It wasn't anything he couldn't recover from with some spells and rest. And maybe some potions. A lot of potions.

A yell, and the last of the weight was gone from his chest. His body felt odd - at once light and hollow, yet heavy and too-full.

He felt Zack using Scan, and mentally he was tallying up his own injuries. He'd become proficient at estimating the extent of his own wounds without anyone noticing - he'd started as a child in the labs, when he hadn't wanted Hojo or any other scientists using his injuries as an excuse to run more tests, inject more of whatever it was into him. Then he'd become a SOLDIER, and a leader, and he hadn't wanted anyone to think he wasn't capable enough. And then, over time, he'd become a legend, an immortal, a God of War. And if that was what he was born to be, then he wouldn't disillusion the masses.

_Delusions of grandeur, much?_

Funny. That sounded very Zack. Sephiroth attributed it to his concussion.

A familiar calming spell, a light tingling, and the pressure he hadn't been aware existed eased slightly from his chest. He'd known his ribs had been broken of course, but he'd learned to disconnect the facts from the feelings long ago.

Zack was still babbling. "It'll be OK, Seph, don't worry. You'll be OK. I'll get you out of here. We'll be mosey-ing on home before you know it, man. And there's new episodes of CSI waiting, and other series like NCIS and Mentalist and Sherlock and Elementary though you'd maybe hate them I don't know, and…"

That tingling feeling kept coming, strengthening and weakening in waves as Zack cast healing spell after healing spell on him. Sephiroth wanted to tell the First that he should learn to pace his Materia usage, that you couldn't keep the spells coming like those machines that shot tennis balls at you for a few gil. He would get his second in command to write a paper on Materia usage, he decided. As soon as they were back in Midgar, and Sephiroth had caught up with his TV shows. He wondered what the other shows Zack mentioned were like.

A bottle was suddenly thrust against his lips, distracting him from his thoughts. Sephiroth hated having anything shoved at him, took him a moment to remember he was injured and Zack was trying to heal him, opened his mouth and drank the medical concoction.

As he swallowed the last of the somewhat bitter liquid, he could feel his vision clearing. He looked at Zack, not surprised to see the guilt and self-hatred still lurking in the younger man's eyes.

When the bottle was lifted from his lips, he coughed slightly, cleared his throat.

"It's not your fault, Zack."

Deep blue eyes widened slightly, then the mask was in place and Zack's false cheer filled the air. "'Course it's not my fault! I'm too awesome to be at fault!"

Sephiroth rolled his eyes, or at least he thought he did. He wasn't sure - the concussion, though healing rapidly, was still affecting him.

When his eyes refocused, he saw that the mask had weakened a little. But this time Zack's gaze was heavy, deliberating, assessing.

Sephiroth coughed a little more, even as Regen continued to heal his internal injuries.

"What is it, Zack?"

The First usually held out a little more, pretended he wasn't filled with questions. But it seemed having his superior officer act as a human shield, then pushing Zack out of the way and being knocked off a cliff only to be crushed beneath monsters and rocks was too much for the First today.

"Why?"

Sephiroth had expected this. Even in his current exhausted and emotional state, Zack was still a fine Brigadier General, deliberately keeping the question loaded yet open, exhibiting that self-control that he usually kept hidden but that had driven him to the second highest rung on the ladder at so young an age. The black-haired man could have been asking about any number of things, probably was asking about all of them at once, but was keeping his options open and waiting to pounce on a response.

Sephiroth hadn't yet reached a satisfactory answer for any of the questions, hadn't yet decided on any answer he could give Zack that would satisfy the younger man. Because there was no way in hell the General would tell the other man the truth. Sephiroth would kiss Hojo before he did that.

He shifted slightly, though that caused pain to lance up his spine and shoot through his skull, and he tensed from it, clenching his jaw in an attempt to stop himself from making any sound.

When the agony had faded slightly, he noticed the worry and pain had returned to Zack's eyes.

"Why what?" In his addled state, the only thing he could think of was to act like the First was asking something ridiculous. And maybe it'd annoy Zack enough that the other man would stop feeling responsible for the General's situation.

It worked. Zack looked exasperated and irritated, and the pain and guilt started to fade from his face. If he was a less emotionally constipated man, and if his arms weren't injured, Sephiroth would have given himself a pat on the back.

"Why just the two of us, asshole?" So Zack had chosen to go easy on him. Which meant that Sephiroth had just earned himself a reprieve - he'd been weighing the possibility that the First would take advantage of his current state to ask the tougher questions.

_Boom._

Sephiroth went ahead and gave himself a mental pat on the back. Then debated lecturing Zack about insulting his superior officer, but decided against it. Talking hurt too much right now.

Inwardly, he wondered what others would think if they saw him like this. Body bruised and broken and bleeding, lying at the base of a mountain unable to move. At least he was surrounded by proof of victory, Sephiroth told himself. There were bodies everywhere - of Wutaians, Genesis clones, monsters…He'd dispatched most of them with ease. It had been the summoned creatures, the violent storm, the shifting ground that had distracted Zack, had allowed a few clones to get close enough to almost turn the younger man into human sashimi.

Sephiroth's body had moved without him willing it to. Though even with his supernatural speed, the combined assault of the elements and their enemies had made him just a split second too slow to move them both out of the way completely, and the angry flaming fist of the summoned beast had struck him full force.

He'd recovered quickly, launched himself back in the fray while trying to look for Genesis or Angeal in the storm. Tried seeking out a command center, or some sort of evidence that would prove Genesis and the Wutaians were working together, some clue as to what his enemies and former friends were up to. But all he could see were excavation tools, surveying equipment and dead bodies.

His analysis mid-battle told him that Genesis' clones had been trying to look for something - and it was something valuable to Genesis, because he'd sent about a hundred of them. But the Wutaians had chanced upon them while the Imperial Guard were either also looking for something (was it the same thing that Genesis was seeking?) or on their way to build a new outpost and advance towards Midgar, and a fight had started. At least it meant that Genesis wasn't working with Wutai. Sephiroth would lose a lot more than a few good men had that been the case.

Somewhere between the enemies of SOLDIER being spotted in the same vicinity and Sephiroth's departure from Midgar, Nature had decided to join in. A freak storm, some quakes, and monsters stronger than usual. With random summoned creatures thrown in the mix. He wondered who had called them forth. If their enemies now had access to such power...

Zack was still looking at him, waiting for answers. Sephiroth wondered why he wished those eyes were a brighter, lighter blue.

_Blond spiky hair, a pretty face hardened by suffering, glowing baby blues full of sorrow and pain, a whispered goodbye wrenched from the depths of the heart._

Sephiroth dazedly wondered what that sudden flash of…memory?…was. Or why it hurt more than any beating he'd ever experienced.

"…wishing Strife was here?" a raspy voice that Sephiroth belatedly realized was his. But it felt so far away, and he wasn't sure his lips had even moved.

He struggled to focus, saw Zack's head move backwards slightly in surprise, eyes widen then turn shrewd and assessing. Sephiroth had never liked having that look levelled on him. Because when Zack was after answers, it usually meant Sephiroth would have more headaches than he'd had bed partners.

_Damned puppies and their doggedness._

"So you DO like him." Zack looked decidedly too smug, kneeling next to his injured commander and gloating away as only Zack would in such a situation.

Sephiroth cursed himself, wondered why he'd thought of the little blond cadet. But he was injured and tired, and the only reason the pain hasn't consumed him was because he'd been trained to handle much worse, because as far back as he can remember pain had been part of his life, subjected as he had been to things that were, at least initially, far above his ability to handle. But he'd learned quickly, forced himself to grow tough and began to detach himself from everything.

He refused to let anyone know how much he could hurt.

_Tear-filled blue eyes, like rain on a sunny day. Only there were no rainbows. No joy. Only sadness and broken dreams._

Sephiroth screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught. Didn't know what it meant and didn't want to know. He needed rest. And he knew the best way to get that.

He struggled to rise, moved to prop himself up on a broken arm.

He felt the effect of the spell a split second later. Thought to himself that Zack's spell casting was getting quicker and sneakier. Then Sleep consumed him.

##

Jared had planned Cloud's outfit for tonight, and was now trying to convince him to put on  _make-up_.

Cloud shuddered. Make-up reminded him of Corneo. There was no way in hell he would ever go through that again.

So now the taller blond was enlisting the other boys' help in persuading Cloud - offering sexual favours like some pornstar Santa Claus. Brian looked as scandalized as ever and was covering his ears while he walked, trying to distance himself from their immoral little group but failing since Jared had already foreseen it and had an arm around the Kalm cadet's shoulders. It seemed the promise of favors from the taller blond was too good to pass up. Reno had an arm around Cloud's shoulders and was whispering dirty things in his ear, promises of what he'd do to Cloud tonight if Cloud was a good boy and did as Jared said, making Cloud flush and struggle to not get a boner in the middle of the corridor as they walked towards target practice.

_Control yourself, old man!_

_...Damned teenage hormones._

He shoved Reno away, tried to walk faster so he could just get to target practice and focus on shooting things. But Ray and Ralph were waiting. They appeared on either side of Cloud, each of them wrapping an arm around the petite blond's waist, their gazes making Cloud feel very warm. And very scared.

_Somebody save me._

Ray leaned in, his silver eyes darker than usual, gave Cloud's ear lobe a little bite and making him shiver slightly at the mix of pleasure and pain - his piercing was barely a week old, after all. Before he could recover, the brunette was whispering into Cloud's flushed ear: "Be a doll and I'll fill that ass up with so much cum you'll be leaking for a week."

Had Ray always had a voice smooth as sin? Cloud's left ear was tingling, whether from the moist heat of Ray's breath, the bite he'd received, or the words that had slinked insidiously into his brain…he wasn't sure. He didn't want to think about it.

_Somebody save me, PLEASE._

Cloud was getting desperate. He needed to get away. But Ralph was on his other side, and his husky voice suddenly filled Cloud's head. "Get pretty for us, and I'll fuck you like the little bitch you are."

_Oh no no no NO. Why the hell am I liking this?!_

Cloud had never once thought he'd enjoy being treated like this. Had never thought he'd enjoy sex as much as he seemed to now. He wanted to blame it on the teenage hormones, on the joy of knowing that Sephiroth, Zack and Aeris were still alive here and it was making him less depressed than before in the future. He didn't want to admit it had anything to do with that non-dream… _thing_ …that had happened a few days ago. The 'dream', and his partially wishing it had been true, and Reno's regular...'conditioning', were revealing sides of himself he hadn't known existed.

He'd thought he'd hated sex. After everything he'd been through, it was just something to be done once in a while for physical release. Definitely not for pleasure. And yet...

 _It's just the hormones, nothing else,_  he told himself.  _You're young, horny, and you're not as emo as before. All that has an impact on physical and emotional reactions to stimulus. That's all there is to it._

 _Plus these guys are fucking hot, and clearly know how to give you a good time,_ a voice whispered.

_Oh FUCK ME._

_Soon,_  the voice whispered cheekily.

_Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UPPPPP_

Cloud struggled to calm himself and focus on getting to target practice.  _One foot in front of the other, ignore what these guys are saying, just think Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…and alright that was disgusting, thank you. Great job._

Almost at the practice field. He could smell the gunpowder. Haven was near, AND he hadn't given in. He smirked, proud of himself.

His smug attitude was shattered just as he reached the doorway. Arms around his neck as someone nuzzled his nape from behind, and a warm, slinky body pressed up against his back, rubbing just right.

"I'll eat your ass just right, and suck you dry... _boss_." Goddammit. No wonder the others were helping Jared convince him. The other blond was a walking, talking sex ma…

… _maven? Machine?_

  1. _MANIAC._



He stumbled, but Jared wouldn't release him, Cloud's bent position allowing the taller blond to rub a little more against him while pretending to help Cloud stand. At this rate Cloud was going to humiliate himself in front of the entire bunker and several instructors. Where the hell was his world famous self-control when he needed it?!

"FINE, I'll do it now let me go!"

Oh shit what the hell had he just said? Jared released him, crowing in victory and hugging / grinding against the others as they high-fived each other, Reno, Ralph and Ray wearing matching feral grins. Brian looked like he wanted to faint.

_SOMEBODY SAVE ME._

The other cadets seemed to have figured out what was going on. Everyone was smirking, and Grant even gave Cloud a thumbs up.

This was NOT happening.

##

_Oh this is SO happening._

Reno was grinning to himself as he lay back on his bed drinking whisky and watching Cloud attempt to dodge Jared's makeup brush. He was ready to go - had been ready since Cloud had come back from the bathroom in the outfit Jared had made him wear, trying not to squirm under 14 heated male gazes. Reno was very glad Jared was on their side. And very VERY glad to be young, healthy and male. Cloud looked  _delicious_.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

Reno was not getting a boner during pre-game drinks. He needed to save the energy for later.

He turned his attention back to Cloud and Jared, marvelling at how the two blonds were so very different - Cloud with his insistence on trying to hide his good looks (why else was he letting his bangs grow out and cover his eyes?), and Jared with the way he knew how to work his looks and make the best of Cloud's. Just HOW the taller blond had smuggled make up into cadet training, when all belongings and care packages had to pass a 'manliness' inspection before being allowed in, was beyond Reno. He supposed the other kid had given plenty of favors to the right people. Jared had a sultry, sensual look even while the blond was sleeping in class and drooling on Cloud, and Fontaine's forest green eyes seemed to be on a permanent 'come hither', bedroom eyes setting.

Not that Reno was complaining. Jared was very good at making his bed partners happy. And right now he was making Cloud look more irresistible than ever, blond spikes brushed and set with some hair spray to frame a delicate face, artfully applied eyeliner and eyeshadow making baby blues more brilliantly breathtaking, light blusher giving Cloud a slightly flushed and rosy look, lipstick making the smaller blond's lips look moist, soft and like the sweetest damn candy in the world.

Reno was dimly aware that there were whistles and catcalls coming from around them, and that Cloud was flushing a darker red in embarrassment. He moved quickly, before their testy little chocobo decided he wanted no part in this, pulled out and called the whole thing off. Because for Reno and the rest, tonight was about helping break down Cloud's inhibitions and allowing him to enjoy himself the way boys did when they were 15 years old and away from parental supervision.

 _And getting ourselves some action with this pretty little thing,_  Reno thought.

He sat on Cloud's bed, threw an arm around the shorter cadet's shoulders, somewhere in his mind registering that this was becoming a default pose for the two of them, gave Cloud a wolfish grin when the blond turned to look at him. Reno was very proud of himself for not jumping the other boy right then and there when faced with Cloud's ridiculous beauty full-frontal.

He offered the Nibelheim boy the whisky bottle he'd been holding, saw Cloud check him out subtly from the corner of a bright blue eye as he tilted his pale neck back to take a swig. This close, Reno didn't miss how Cloud's pupil dilated slightly, and the red-head's grin broadened when he received confirmation that Cloud liked what he saw. As soon as the blond noticed Reno's knowing look, he flushed even darker and turned away, bringing the bottle back down and swallowing.

The movement of that Adam's Apple as the blond swallowed had Reno hypnotized. He moved as if on auto-pilot, pulling Cloud closer and whispering into one pale, perfectly shaped ear: "We'll make this up to you later, Blondie. That's a promise."

Now Cloud was a deep scarlet from the tips of his ears to the top of the tight, slinky shirt that Jared had shoved him into.

Reno grinned.

_Tonight's gonna be a good, good night._

##

Sephiroth grit his teeth as he hiked back up the mountain, determined to collect the evidence even though his wounds were not yet fully healed. But he knew his genetic modifications, superior to the rest of SOLDIER, would allow him to be 100% by the time they had to descend and make it to the pick-up location.

Zack's spells and the eight potions he had consumed had healed all the major wounds. Now all that were left were scratches, bruises and weakness from the massive blood loss - but Sephiroth knew all that would fade in hours. He was the General after all.

_Falling in love with your own legend? Idiot._

He clenched his fist at that voice, which sounded so much like his red-headed friend - back when they'd been friends who hung out and messed around, trying to get drunk, playing cards and hearts like life was a game.

But it wasn't one of those stupid video games about a group of people running around saving the world, or some prince on a road trip to pick up his blushing bride. This was the real world: people got hurt, died, left…

He resolutely pushed those thoughts away, focused on his breathing and on putting one foot in front of the other. He wasn't weak enough to use the Masamune as a walking stick.

_No, you're just too proud to admit when you need help._

This time it sounded like his black-haired friend. It hurt thinking about Zack's mentor.

_Zack._

Sephiroth turned to his side, saw Zack watching him carefully as though ready to jump in and help at the slightest hint of his commander looking about to collapse. The man always could be counted on to do something ridiculous.

 _Like his squats,_  Sephiroth thought in amusement. He hadn't seen those in a while. Not since the whole Strife incident.

Inwardly he groaned. Why was he thinking about the pretty little cadet again?

_Coz he's pretty. And you LIKE him._

This voice sounded uncannily like Zack - mischievous and knowing, teasing and warm.

_Shut up, Zachary._

He was going crazy, if missing Zack's squats and arguing with an imaginary Zack while the real one walked beside him was any indication.

He instantly wished he was only arguing with an imaginary Zack when the one next to him decided to follow up on last night's questions.

"So, are you gonna talk to Cloud when we get back?" Sephiroth didn't need to turn and look to know the man had a cheeky glint in his eyes, could hear the grin in his voice. He ignored his second in command, upping his pace just to annoy the black-haired man.

It worked - he heard an annoyed  _tch_ , heard the increased breathing rate as the First struggled to catch up. Since Zack couldn't see his face, Sephiroth allowed himself a small victory smirk.

_Boom._

Just a few more hours to where he'd spotted the equipment. Then half a day's run back down the mountain, and three hours' sprint to the pick-up location. They would be right on time for their chopper. Sephiroth's smirk widened at how on point his instructions had been.

_Like a Boss._

##

Cloud could hear the sounds of some sort of music he wasn't familiar with, could feel the deep bass in his bones before they even reached wherever it was Reno was taking them to. He looked around, the neon lights blinding, the locals giving them a wide berth. He could understand why - six bunkers had made it out, with three being strapped with weekend duty and extra PT for drinking the night before training and showing up hungover (and in some cases, still drunk) to class. Each bunker had 16 cadets - except for theirs which was one short after Cloud had taken Matt out - which meant that there were currently 95 young, hot-blooded males on the prowl after a week of being shut in their strict training environment.

It was enough to make one little old lady clutch at her (faux) pearls.

Cloud was glad for Reno's arm around his shoulders, that familiar weight helping him feel less self-conscious about the stares and leers he was getting. There were no catcalls or wolf-whistles though, and once again Cloud was glad for whatever reputation Reno had under the plate.

…that was odd. He could have sworn he'd seen some of the tattooed and pierced men they'd passed look warily at his right and not his left. Cloud turned slightly - Ray was walking casually next to Cloud, hands in his pockets as he chatted with Ralph and Grant. Well - Ray and Ralph were chatting. Grant was listening quietly from right behind them and grunting occasionally.

The street punks and gangbangers couldn't possibly be scared of Grant? The kid was huge, but he was still only 15, had a long ways more to grow. And try as he might but Cloud couldn't find anything intimidating about Grant, not THIS Cloud at least. Though alright he admitted that the previous 15 year old him had been plenty terrified of the Corel boy's size and 'mean-looking' face.

_Pussy._

Cloud's mouth turned down slightly as he faced forward and continued walking, resolutely choosing not to think about how pathetic he'd been before. Reno was finishing the last of his whisky, and already Jared was whining from Reno's left about the rum being gone. Cloud just shook his head slightly and took a long swig from his bottle. He'd need it if he was going to get through tonight.

_Don't want to get TOO drunk now, my dear. Lots of fun in store for you._

He was going to have to add this third, perverted voice to the list.

Reno pointed to a building up the street, and as they walked towards it the music started to drown everything else out, the bass rattling his bones. Cloud wondered at just how deafening it was inside if already he could hear everything so clearly. Did people under the plate want to dull their senses that much?

_Says the guy who keeps trying to drink himself to death._

_Oh shut up._

Cloud was going to need a lot of alcohol to tune out the voices. He focused on his friends, heard the excited chattering of cadets behind him, the friendly greetings yelled to Reno.

_Does this guy know EVERYONE down here?_

Inwardly, Cloud was glad for that. At least one of them had connections under the Plate.

_For now. Eventually you will too._

Cloud wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He took another long swig, emptied his bottle and chucked it in a nearby bin. Well, 'at' was a better term - the bin was overflowing with garbage: bottles, cans, used condoms, bloodied articles of clothing, syringes…Cloud decided not to think about any of that. His empty bottle landed upright on top of the heap and stayed still, Ralph giving a low, appreciative whistle and talking about Cloud's aim and how the bottle stuck the landing.

He knew for a fact Ralph had better aim than he did, if the black-haired boy's mangled targets every Friday were anything to go by.

They walked up as a group, Reno chatting with the bouncers, whose gazes lingered appreciatively on Cloud - though possibly out of respect for the red-head they quickly averted their eyes. Cloud didn't miss how two of the bouncers had looked warily to his right - curious, he turned, but Grant wasn't there. It was just Ray, lighting a cigarette with a silver Zippo covered in an intricate design. Cloud stared.

_Where the hell did he get that from?_

Ray took a long drag, exhaled through his nose. Cloud wondered if the brunette had always been this good-looking. Wondered why the past him hadn't had the hots for Ray - or Ralph, Jared or Reno.

_Coz you were a sheltered kid with a one-track mind on a one-way street to failure._

_Shut up._

Cloud hadn't realized he was still staring at Ray. The brunette winked at him, looking more bad boy than ever with his hair casually slicked back, neon lights tinting striking features dangerously sinful, cigarette held lightly between thin lips, black dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows hugging a body that was becoming a man's, stone washed jeans clinging to a firm butt and long, lean legs in all the right places. Cloud flushed, made to turn away, when Ray took the cigarette out of his mouth and offered it to Cloud. He hesitated - he really shouldn't, not if he wanted to pass the SOLDIER qualifications - then accepted, taking a long drag and thanking all the Ancients he didn't choke and sputter like an idiot.

Ray obviously approved, if that devilish smirk was any indication.

"Oh my God! You smoke?!"

They winced in unison, turning to look at a perennially scandalized Brian who was staring at them in horror.

Before either of the recalcitrants could respond, the usual arm was around Cloud's shoulders and that familiar slanted voice filled the air.

"Gonna tattle to the instructors, Tranton?" Reno had a dangerous gleam in his eyes, looking so much like the Turk he would grow up to be that Cloud just stared at him, cigarette mid-way to his lips.

Brian sputtered, and suddenly Jared was there coddling his favorite teddy bear. "It's OK, Brian. I won't smoke if you don't like how my lips will taste after."

Brian  _eep_ 'ed, trying to back away from Jared who had an arm around the Kalm cadet's waist and was grinning cheekily while leaning in for a kiss. "No…uh…that's OK…"

"Oh so you don't mind kissing me if I smoke?" Jared beamed, his other arm going around Brian as he hugged the shorter cadet. From Brian's scandalized squeak, Cloud guessed Jared had copped a feel as usual.

He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him at their antics.

_Boys, it's a wonderful thing._

A hand around his, and Reno's face was closer than before. Cloud tensed, but the red-head was just guiding the still-burning cigarette to his lips. Taking a drag, he exhaled, before turning to smirk at Cloud. "Why so jumpy, Strife? I won't bite." His blue eyes glinted as he leaned in. "At least not for now," he breathed into a reddening ear. Cloud heard Ray snicker, took a drag and dropped the remains of the cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out with the heel of his boot, refusing to look at the others for now.

It seemed they had expected that, if the way Reno kept a hold on him and casually conversed with Ray and the others was any indication.

Privately he was stunned at how well they seemed to know him. And a little happy.

_That's right, be happy while you can, loser. Coz you're gonna fail so bad, this time there won't be anyone to save you._

That stupid voice again. If he could jump into his own head and rip it out he'd give it the beating it deserved.

 _Woah._  Maybe he was already drunk. He wasn't usually so aggressive. What the hell had Ray put in those cigarettes?

"You can go in now, Red. Tables are ready." A deep voice from behind Cloud startled him - he would have spun around and lashed out if it wasn't for Reno's hold on him suddenly tightening.

So the red-head was now even anticipating Cloud's instinctive reactions? He REALLY did know Cloud intimately.

_Stop it stop it stop it Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

Reno was guiding Cloud in, and as they stepped into the club Cloud was momentarily blinded by a spotlight that flashed right at them, deafened by the sudden roar of music now no longer contained by four walls and thick doors.

It seemed the red-headed cadet was used to his senses being assaulted, the taller boy guiding the blond deftly through the crowd, and as Cloud's eyes and ears adjusted he could see that they were heading towards a section large enough to contain almost a hundred cadets.

They were seated, and Ray was conversing with Reno who was frowning but nodding. Ralph was on Cloud's other side on the plush sofa, cigarette the blond assumed Ray had given him between his lips as the black-haired cadet looked around them appreciatively.

Then Cloud had to lean in, struggling to hear the other boy even though Ralph was yelling. It was too damn loud in here.

"…before?"

Cloud assumed Ralph was asking if he'd been to a club before, or this club in particular. He shook his head, never having been a person to raise his voice. Except when he was fighting.

 _Or fucking_ , the cheeky voice whispered.

_Shut up._

Where the hell were their drinks?

Right on cue, he noticed a group of uniformed women walking towards them, struggling under the weight of trays laden with bottles, glasses and buckets of ice.

As soon as the trays were unloaded, bottles were hastily opened by cadets greedy for drinks. Glasses of alcohol were poured sloppily, and suddenly Cloud had one in his hand and everyone was giving some sort of toast. He couldn't hear what they were saying, doubted anyone knew anyway, and they all downed the liquor.

Ralph had already grabbed Cloud's glass and was giving him a refill, cigarette back between his lips and looking for all the world like he made good money breaking hearts for a living. Cloud wondered again why the past him hadn't had the hots for any of them - Ralph's dark hair and eyes, lean body, and high cheekbones on a boyishly good-looking face made him stand out in any crowd. It didn't hurt that tonight the Rocket Town cadet had also slicked his hair back casually, was wearing a fitted white v-neck t-shirt strategically chosen to show off a tanned and toned chest. Cloud was tipsy enough to admit he was a little jealous of how well-built the other boy was at 15 years of age, especially since he himself was just a scrawny, girly-looking little brat.

He accepted the drink, felt the familiar arm around his shoulder as Reno leaned in from his other side to clink glasses with them. They downed this one too, and as Ralph refilled his glass - at this rate Cloud was going to get drunk very quickly - a hand was in front of Cloud holding out a cigarette. He glanced at Ray, nodded his thanks as he took it, placed it between his lips. Then suddenly Cloud was yanked forwards and to the side, this position stretching him across Reno's lap, and Ray was lighting Cloud's cigarette with his, the orange glow and flashing lights throwing the brunette's handsome face in stark relief. Cloud started slightly as his ass was suddenly groped, and he looked up to glare accusingly at Reno who was looking off into the crowd innocently.

_It's too damn early for this, asshole._

_Soon, sweetie_ , a voice chortled inside him.

 _Goddammit_. Cloud sat back, took a drag, then exhaled and grabbed his glass. Ralph cheerily clinked glasses with him, downed it without waiting for Cloud and stood, grabbing Jared and heading to the dance floor. Some of the other cadets were already there, and it seemed the long-awaited dance off was about to take place.

Cloud hoped no one expected him to dance. He really didn't know how to. If only he could tie himself to the sofa.

 _I'm sure some bondage can be arranged_ , that perverted voice snickered.

_Oh for fuck's sake._

Cloud downed his drink, leaned forward and poured himself another one. Maybe if he got drunk and passed out no one would expect him to dance.

_But then you wouldn't be able to enjoy all that hot fucking from the fucking hot boys._

_Oh for FUCK's sake._

Cloud was just going to drink and imagine Gunny Payne in a bikini all night, yes sir, he was.

_Yeah…good luck with that. Dumbass._

Now if those stupid voices would just get drunk and shut up, everything would be just peachy.

##

Zack was trying hard not to pant as he sprinted, struggling to keep up with his superior's brutal pace. Just how the man had already recovered from life-threatening injuries was beyond him. He supposed it meant that his healing skills were amazing.

_Not quite._

He knew the General was on a whole other playing field, even compared to Zack, who was by far one of the best SOLDIERs around. He'd heard rumors about Sephiroth being created in the labs, about how the silver-haired man was more genetically-modified than most of the foods sold in the supermarkets these days. Some said he wasn't even human, was barely mortal, that if you cut him he wouldn't even bleed.

_Morons._

Zack knew very well that the General bled, just as they all did. Had witnessed it for himself many times, had patched his commander up on too many occasions. And he also knew that Sephiroth was human - just like the rest of them - with his own emotions, thoughts, dreams and hopes. It was just that the man was better at controlling himself than others, kept a tight lid on any feelings, thought about things a thousand different ways before saying or doing anything, and that was why he always seemed to be the smartest person in the room.

Alright, who was Zack kidding. The General WAS the smartest person in the room at all times.

_Yeah, but sometimes he's the dumbest smart person around._

Zack would have grinned if he wasn't trying to hard to control his mouth so he wouldn't start panting like a dog. He wanted to cheer, pump his fist in the air with glee, at how the General had all but admitted to having an interest in Cloud.

When the silver-haired man had brought up the blond while lying in a pool of his blood, Zack had been stunned. But then he'd wanted to start whooping with joy, say "I told you so" a hundred times, shake Sephiroth for being so obtuse…

None of which were justifiable reactions when his commander was so badly injured. That and Zack's very strong self-preservation instincts told him that if he did any of those things, he'd get his ass whupped in training AND get saddled with more weekend duties than humanly possible to execute.

So he'd settled for giving the General a very calm, very shrewd look, asking him why he was bringing up the blond in a tone more even than he'd thought he could pull off.

_I freakin' ROCK._

He was far too proud of himself. But hey, he was Zack Fair, Brigadier General Extraordinaire.

_Hey, that rhymes!_

Zack couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. He pasted an innocent expression on his face when Sephiroth turned back to look at him questioningly, didn't miss how the General rolled his eyes slightly as the silver-haired man turned to the front and continued running.

For all that Sephiroth thought he had mastery of his emotions and expressions, some things still slipped through. And it was those precious moments, those sacred feelings that shone between cracks in a ridiculously thick amor, that made Zack all the more determined to protect his superior officer, help him find the happiness he deserved.

_All you need is love._

He'd pull Cloud aside as soon as he got back to Midgar, Zack decided. Offer the kid some private training, maybe include the others in Cloud's posse so as to not get the blond in trouble. Zack knew what it was like when the jealousy of petty minds reared its ugly head, was fortunate that he was so well-liked he hadn't had to face the negative consequences of his rapid rise to the top. He didn't want Cloud to go through any of that. The little blond seemed to be a rising star, was becoming immensely popular among the cadets, had a loyal group that surrounded him - but Zack somehow knew that the kid took everything to heart, and that any vicious words, though the blond would show no emotion outwardly, would replay over and over in his head and slice at an already fragile heart.

How he knew all that, he wasn't sure. But he supposed it was pretty obvious to anyone with half a brain that the kid was too sweet and caring for his own good, and that the tough, cool outer shell was just that: a shell.

_Like a blond tortoise._

Zack chuckled again as he imagined a childish face beneath a wild blond mop of hair peeking out from under a tortoise shell. This time Sephiroth didn't bother turning back to check, probably chalking Zack's levity in their current situation up to some sort of natural insanity.

_Least I'm not the whack job who decided just TWO of us would do for this mission._

He glared slightly at his commander's back, breath coming in short spurts despite his best attempts to regulate it. It was still freezing cold, though the wind wasn't as violent as it had been on their journey here, and they only had about an hour and a half left of sprinting before they got to their pick-up location. SOLDIER Firsts could withstand such temperatures with ease, were trained to run several hundred kilometres at a time and not get winded. But Zack hadn't slept or eaten in days, had struggled against succumbing to the cold on his way up, sprinted / slid / tumbled down the mountain when his commander had been flung off the cliff, cast about a million healing spells in quick succession, spent hours watching over the General and fending off random beasts that had believed they were easy pickings ( _stupid brutes thought this Brigadier General was just a pretty face?_ ). As soon as Sephiroth had woken up from the spell-induced rest, they'd hiked back up the stupid mountain then run down carrying the evidence they'd collected while Zack struggled to keep his footing in the snow ( _since nothing seemed to affect the silver-haired man's footing_ ), and it was only years of training, Mako-enhancements, and a self-control he kept hidden for the most part that allowed him to keep pace with the madman he reported to.

As soon as they got back to Midgar, he'd sleep for a day, Zack decided. Then he'd hook up with some of his regulars and stuff his face with pizza and Wutaian take out. Or maybe he'd eat BEFORE getting all hedonistic.

Or maybe he'd eat WHILE having sex.

 _Food sex is ON THE TABLE,_  he cheered internally, mentally patting himself on the back at his clever pun.

_Idiot._

Somehow that sounded like Angeal - indulgent, fond, exasperated, amused.

 _Stop thinking about him_ , Zack told himself as a stitch in his side made itself known. Sephiroth seemed to believe Zack could keep up with the General's insane pace. And while that thought made Zack want to puff his chest out with pride, his lungs were on fire and his heart was threatening to jump out of his chest like those baby aliens in that movie with the bad-ass chick.

_Just keep swimming._

Zack couldn't wait to get home. It was almost the weekend, and he'd earned the right to Get Retarded.

_TGIF._

_##_

Reno raised his eyebrows, gave a low whistle though no one could hear it over the deafening sounds of Shut Your Mouth and Go Back To The Footwork blasting through the speakers.

Ralph could DANCE.

The black-haired cadet was this round's representative for Bunker 7, and it seemed the Rocket Towner was a b-boy.

Reno looked up, grinned and pointed at the DJ - whom he'd known for years - who pointed right back and nodded. The DJ's choice of the song by Funky Monkee was on purpose, Reno knew, since the cadets were all training to become big bad SOLDIERs.

Well, all of them except for Reno - he was going to rock the suit and tie, not wear that fat ugly belt and  _oo-rah_  around town.

It seemed the other bunkers had no one to go head to head with Ralph, with b-boys from Bunkers 2, 3 and 8 throwing up their hands exaggeratedly and  _kow tow_ -ing to the Rocket Town cadet. Bunker 7 cheered and high fived at the signal they had won this round. Reno shook his head - there had been more ragging and trash talking than ever on their journey here, and he was privately amused at how competitive the cadets were, even in something as simple as dancing.

_Pot? Kettle?_

Alright, who was he to talk. He was competitive by nature, liked winning because in the slums winning meant not dying. That habit had carried over into cadet training, and he'd been pretty pumped up about tonight as well - not that he'd ever admit it. He'd never gone to a club with such a large group of friends before. Heck, he'd never even had so many people he'd actually call 'friends'. Cloud's attitude change had really opened up a whole new world. Reno wasn't sure how to feel about it, a voice inside reminding him that those who had more, had more to lose.

_Shut up._

He wasn't going to pull a Strife and start getting all depressed. The blond was emo enough for all of them (probably something in the Nibelheim air). No sir, Reno was here to have fun.

_And show these mummy's boys how we roll under the Plate._

He smirked, tossed back his drink and stood. He grabbed Cloud's bicep, glad that all the drinks they'd plied the blond with meant the smaller cadet's struggles were ineffectual, and headed out to the dance floor with the Nibelheim boy.

_Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up._

##

_What the HELL am I doing?_

Cloud really wished his body would listen to him, but apparently consuming copious amounts of alcohol meant that his mind lost all control over his actions.

_Yeah…you be drunker than a skunk-er, buster._

Even the voices in his head were tipsy. Fantastic.

He wasn't THAT drunk, given his footing was still even. Or that could be because Ray had a firm grip on his hips as the tall brunette ground against him in time to the music, warm hands guiding Cloud's lower body so that the blond was moving against Ray in tandem. The Junon boy was a good dancer, having won his round of the battle against the other bunkers with his hip hop moves. In fact, Bunker 7 had won the most rounds of all - six in total - as it turned out that Reno, Jared, Grant and another of their bunk were also skilled dancers. Reno's own abilities weren't a surprise to Cloud, who had seen the red-head bust a move in Seventh Heaven before during one of their regular drinking sessions. Jared hadn't surprised anyone with his dance moves - all dirty and sexual, belly dancing and twerking (Cloud had just learned the word) to a song about an anaconda. Cloud assumed Jared won only because no one else wanted to dance so sluttily. Or because Jared's little show had made it very hard for them to move. Grant had double-teamed with another cadet in the paired round, and Ralph had been called in again for the "finals" when a completely instrumental electronic song had come on. Cloud had no clue what the song was, but Jared had been cheering about loving android porn. The taller blond really did have sex on the brain.

Ray was continuing to rub against him from behind, guiding Cloud in a couple's dance on the crowded floor, one hand moving up to pinch Cloud's left nipple through his slinky shirt - the material heightening the pleasure at the friction. He didn't want to admit how good it felt, or how much he was looking forward to later.

 _Patience is a virtue,_  the perverted voice said in sing-song.

Cloud was pulled from his cursing at the voices in his head when Ralph appeared before him, strong, calloused hand grabbing Cloud's jaw and kissing him as the black-haired cadet synchronized the movements of his dancing with theirs.

_Fuck._

Ralph was a good kisser. Cloud was going to lose control pretty soon, what with Ralph's hot tongue moving against his, Ray moving against him from behind, bending forward slightly to nip at the side of Cloud's neck and making the blond moan into the kiss, Ralph moving against Cloud from the front and giving his nether regions delicious friction.

_"Well, come here baby and let daddy show you what it feels like"_

They parted when Ralph decided he needed air. Cloud wasn't sure if he was still breathing, a little light-headed from all the alcohol, nicotine and stimulation.

The blinding, flashing lights and booming, deafening music weren't helping.

_"Let's both get undressed right here, keep it up girl and I swear"_

If Cloud was sober, he'd be horrified at how he wished the stupid barrier of clothing wasn't in the way right now.

_"I'm gonna give it to you non-stop, and I don't care who's watching"_

Suddenly Reno and Jared were there, and absently Cloud wondered where Brian was. The light-brown haired cadet could at least be counted on to stop the others from just shagging Cloud on the dance floor.

 _Coz you ain't got no self-controoooooolllll_ , the perverted voice was officially tipsy.

Cloud recalled what had happened earlier in the bunks when Jared had forced Brian into an outfit that didn't scream "farm boy".

Brian had looked horrified by the pieces of fabric Jared was holding out to him, and the Kalm boy had looked laughably pitiful when he peered up at Jared, asking meekly if he really had to put it on.

"You'll take what I give you and you'll like it," Jared had sassed without missing a beat. Brian's face had paled even more.

Ralph had been laughing from where he'd been lying back on his bed polishing off a bottle of whisky observing the proceedings.

Now the boys were surrounding him, and it seemed they had decided to have their own mini dance off. Cloud wondered if he should start running.

Ralph had stepped back from Cloud, and was breaking. Reno grinned, started to dance. Cloud stared - how the hell was Reno making his legs  _move_  like that?

Suddenly Cloud was spun around, and Ray was dancing against him in that fluid way of his, looking like the total player that he was and smirking at Cloud - who now had Reno pressed against his back moving against him.

Ray stepped back slightly, and suddenly Jared was there moving perfectly in sync with the brunette, their different dance styles complementing each other and making Cloud wish for the first time that he could dance too.

_"Now bust it open let me see you get loose"_

Jared had dropped low, knees spread apart, and he slowly rose while gyrating against Ray who had both eyebrows raised as he enjoyed the view and the friction.

The taller blond cadet was dancing like the showboat he was, right there in the middle of the huge club.

_"I know what you came here to see_

_If you're a freak then you coming home with me"_

At that, Jared spun around yanked Ray forward, both cadets' hips moving against each others' sensually as they kept tempo with the music while making out. Cloud chanced a glance around, wondering if any one was watching, realized everyone else in the club was focused on getting their own grooves on. Inwardly, he was thankful - no one was bothered about the cadets, and no one bothered them.

Ralph was in front of Cloud now, and somehow the black-haired cadet and Reno were continuing their little contest with Cloud in between them. Cloud wondered if he should be doing something other than stand there and be a marionette as the others guided him.

_"Double entendre, double entendre"_

Why was the music such a perfect soundtrack?

It seemed the boys had decided their little dance-off was a tie, and they were thirsty. Cloud was being guided back to the sofas, and dimly he wondered if he should assert his authority or control somehow. He was being treated like a vapid little bimbo, when REALLY he was the greatest fighter on the planet.

_Not right now, you're not._

The voices were sobering up. Dammit.

It was true though. Here he was just a small 15 year old with the mind and experience of a man. And alright so it was just stubborn pride that was making him want to show everyone who was boss.

Grant and some of the others had taken to calling him that since Wednesday. Only this tipsy would Cloud admit to himself that he quite liked the title. He slapped himself mentally.

_Arrogant, much?_

He needed to get off his high horse. Pride came before the fall after all.

They were back at their seats and Cloud accepted the drink Reno poured him, taking a gulp and belatedly realizing how thirsty he had been as the cool liquid flowed down his throat. Some flailing on his left made him turn to look, only to stifle a snort of amusement at the sight of Jared giving Brian a lap dance, the Kalm cadet anything but calm.

_Ooooo, punnyyyyy._

Cloud had succeeded in getting the voices drunk again. He gave himself a mental pat on the back.

Ralph, Reno and Ray were laughing uproariously, calling out encouragement which was lost to the music blasting down at them from the speakers. Cloud looked around, wondered where the other cadets were, saw some of them on the sofas drinking, some on the dance floor, while others were at the bar chatting with strangers. He recalled seeing a few leave earlier, saying goodbye to Reno and thanking Ray for the drinks as they headed off with new friends. No need to wonder what they'd be up to.

A handful of other cadets had gotten absolutely wasted earlier on, and some of their more responsible bunk mates had decided to call it quits and head back up above the Plate. They'd all made sure to speak with Reno and Ray before leaving though, and most of them also nodded to Cloud before departing. He'd nodded back, not sure what to say in such situations and grateful that the others were always there to take the responsibility of talking from him.

He wondered what time Reno, Ray, Ralph and Jared would be leaving.

_Impatient, much?_

So sue him. He was 15 and horny.

Jared was now on the sofa next to Brian, the Kalm cadet having succeeded in shoving the blond off him. It seemed Brian had decided to just drink himself into oblivion, if the rate of his chugging was any indication.

Poor kid was probably trying to pass out so he wouldn't have to deal with Jared.

Alcohol sounded good, actually.

Cloud sat back, sipped from his glass, determined to prove to himself that he still had some semblance of self-control and that he wasn't looking forward to later. Whatever later was.

_You're not fooling anyone, dumbass._

Time to get the voices drunk again. Cloud gulped down the rest of his drink, poured himself a new one. He took the cigarette and Zippo that Ray offered him, wondered what Ray and Reno were discussing, then Ralph was next to him clinking his glass against Cloud's and suckering the blond into a drinking competition.

Suddenly Ralph was being yanked to his feet by Jared, who had decided he wanted to dirty dance some more, grinding and twerking (Cloud thought the word was rather cute) while the black-haired boy gripped the blond's hips, smacked the ass being blatantly offered to him as Jared bent over.

_"Maybe go to my place and just kick it like Tae Bo_

_And possibly bend you over, look back and watch me smack that"_

Cloud had to admit watching the two cadets bump and grind to the lewd music was making him feel rather flustered.

They enjoyed the music and drinks a while longer, as more and more cadets began to leave, stopping by to say their goodbyes. Cloud wondered again how much longer the others wanted to spend at the club, and then it seemed like they had read his mind. That or maybe Brian's obvious inebriation meant it was time for Jared's favourite target of torture to go home. Grant and some of the others were heading back up as well, given they had more drinks in the bunks and were keen on just imbibing until they passed out. They waved and nodded at Cloud, not bothering to speak above the blasting music, and left - Grant holding Brian up with ease as the light brown haired cadet stumbled and staggered his way to the exit. Cloud shook his head in amusement at the sight.

Then Reno was pulling Cloud to his feet, and had an arm around the blond's waist as he guided them to the exit. Ray, Ralph and Jared were ahead of them, and the trio had stopped at the doors to look back at the pair.

_"Where you going? What you getting into?_

_I'm coming with you."_

The way the music was such a perfect soundtrack, Cloud was beginning to wonder if this was the real life, or just fantasy.

Then he was alongside the others, and Ralph smacked his ass hard.

_If everything's a dream, don't wake me._

Reno was guiding them through the slums, and Cloud wished again for a watch. Under the Plate, he didn't have the sun and stars to tell the time by, and the bustling activity in the slums at night made it hard to tell if it was time for bed.

 _Oh but you ARE going to bed_ , the perverted voice whispered.  _Just not to sleep._

If Cloud was honest with himself, he was really looking forward to it.

_What's wrong with me?_

_Nothing. You're just young, hormonal and having a good time. Now go have fun._

Funny, that was the strong voice, not the perverted one.

It seemed while Cloud had been lost in thought, they had arrived at some sort of apartment. An elderly man standing by the door passed Ray the key and nodded at them - giving Ray a little bow before departing. Cloud wondered at that but didn't have time to deliberate on it when Reno guided him in, and Ralph started fixing them all drinks at the bar counter. Cloud looked around, a little surprised to see that this apartment was clean and rather large, though where they were in the living room was quite barren. There wasn't much - just a table with some speakers on top of it, several chairs, the aforementioned counter covered in fresh bottles of alcohol, a fridge, and a sink with some cupboards under it. There was a door located near Cloud, and he wondered where it led.

_To bed. Duh._

He really did have a one-track mind. He sat at the table, watched as Ray plugged the cable from the speakers into his cellphone and started playing some music, wanted to laugh when Reno brought out a pack of cards (the way the red head seemed to carry playing cards with him everywhere he went reminded Cloud of Gambit). They all settled into their seats, starting up the poker game, and somewhere in Cloud's mind he registered the fact that the apartment had strong sound-proofing, because he couldn't hear the noises of the slums even though Ray hadn't turned the volume on the speakers up very high.

_Which means you can be as loud as you want later._

Cloud flushed slightly at the thought, distracted enough that he showed a tell which resulted in him losing this round. He accepted the bottle and started to consume his penalty, choked and sputtered when Reno suddenly suggested that the winner got first dibs with Cloud. The blond slammed the bottle down on the table, stared incredulously at the red-head, who just winked at him. The others were grinning, and Jared leaned over to whisper in Cloud's ear.

"Don't worry, sweetie. You'll love the way we do you."

Then the nympho had his tongue in Cloud's mouth, and the other boys were raucously cheering them on.

Cloud wondered if he should feel miffed at how easily Jared picked him up, then he was on the other blond, arranged so he was straddling Jared who was grinding against Cloud while his hands gripped the smaller cadet's butt, fingers thrusting teasingly between cheeks, and Cloud was suddenly wishing he wasn't wearing any pants.

_Slut._

_Fuck off._

" _I'll let you lick the lollipop"_

Dammit, even the MUSIC was turning Cloud on. Jared had released his lips, was now sucking on Cloud's neck and making the smaller blond moan.

Somewhere in his mind, Cloud told himself he should be appalled at how wantonly he was grinding against the other cadet. Then he decided he didn't care - he'd been looking forward to this for too long to start getting cold feet.

" _Keep going 'til you hit the spot"_

He distantly registered that he was being lifted, legs wrapped around Jared's waist, and that the taller boy was walking. Then he was on his back on a bed, and Jared was on top of him, grinding and kissing, breaking apart long enough to take both their shirts off, and Cloud was moaning into Jared's mouth at the skin-to-skin contact of their bare chests.

Jared pulled away breathlessly, started kissing his way down Cloud's chest, stopping to suck on a nipple and bite lightly, making Cloud moan louder. All of a sudden another tongue was in his mouth, and Cloud opened his eyes dazedly to realize Reno was kissing him forcefully. A hand was twisting his wet nipple, as Jared moved lower, then Cloud's pants and underwear were yanked off - damn, Jared was good at this - and Cloud's eyes went wide while his back arched, crying out into the kiss as a very warm, very moist tightness enveloped Cloud's member.

 _Damn_ , Jared was good at this. Cloud was going to cum soon if the other blond kept this up.

He whined when the suction was gone, then he was being pulled and flipped over, and he moaned when a hot tongue laved at his hole while a talented hand pumped his leaking length.

" _I'm trying to explain baby the best way I can"_

A cock thrust into his mouth stifled his sounds, and Cloud got to work, sucking and licking as hands smacked against his ass, another gripping his hair tight and holding him down.

" _I melt in your mouth girl, not in your hands"_

His mouth was being fucked hard, two hands now gripping the sides of his face as their owner forced his head up and down before shoving the blond's face down and making Cloud almost gag from the thick length that hit the back of his throat. He didn't, keeping his mouth open and moaning as the tongue at his ass suddenly shoved itself into his hole, licking and twisting, wet slurping sounds filling the air as Jared ate him out.

"Well isn't he a good little slut." Ray's voice above him made Cloud realize he was sucking off the brunette.

"What'd you expect, Johnson?" Reno's voice from somewhere behind him, and suddenly Jared's talented tongue was replaced by two fingers being shoved inside Cloud unceremoniously.

"So's this one." Ralph's husky voice was breathy as Cloud thrust back on the fingers inside him, moaning when more were added to the mix - teasing his spot - and wishing they were thicker, harder.

Ray's voice was slightly hoarse. "Try this bitch and tell me if it's better than that other blond you got there."

Cloud's head was yanked back, a  _pop_  sound filling the air as the sudden end to the suction on Ray's cock, but before Cloud could protest his mouth was filled with Ralph as Reno slammed into his ass, making Cloud cry out and moan around the length he was sucking. He assumed Reno had won that round of poker.

"Fuck," Ralph sounded more breathless than before.

A hard slap to his ass made Cloud moan again. "Good boy," Reno sounded entirely too smug.

Cloud couldn't retort even if he wanted to, dimly wondering if after this the others would still respect him given how much he seemed to like being disrespected in bed, somehow knew they still would because what happened between the sheets stayed between the sheets. There were hands twisting his nipples, yanking his hair, slapping his ass, Jared's mouth back on Cloud's cock making the smaller blond cum hard at the sensory overload of being filled on both ends and sucked off. He received more slaps for that, more pinches to his nipples, was called a useless slut for being the first to release, then Jared was kissing him and Cloud was enthusiastically tasting himself as his arms were grabbed and twisted behind him. A grunt, and warmth in his ass told him Reno had unloaded - someone biting hard on his neck making him cry out - wanted to whine at the loss of the cock inside him when he was yanked backwards by the hair to end up on his back, and Reno was shoving his spent, still hard member into Cloud's mouth - ordering him to clean it up - and then Cloud was moaning again as another cock started slamming brutally into his ass and his own length, still semi-hard, was slapped.

"That's a good whore," that sounded like Ray, though Cloud wasn't sure if the dark-haired boy was addressing him or Jared, decided he didn't care when whoever it was kept hitting that spot inside him, making him see stars. He felt more wet heat inside him, then whoever it was pulled out and Cloud felt the bed dip, wondered dimly how large it was if it fit all of them at once. Reno shifted and Cloud opened his eyes when he felt something hard wiping wetness along his cheek. It was Ray, and Cloud obediently opened his mouth wide, letting both Reno and Ray in, crying out when he felt someone else slam into his ass and start to move, rocking Cloud against the sheets with the force of his thrusts. He peered over the two cocks thrusting into his mouth, saw Ralph between his legs, then screwed his eyes shut when Jared's mouth enveloped his rapidly hardening member. If he kept watching…

The mouth left him when he was hard enough, and he opened his eyes to glare at Jared in betrayal only to see the other blond climb on top of him, cocks rubbing together as the taller cadet ground against him, Reno's length now in Jared's mouth as Ray grabbed a fistful of Cloud's hair and started to fuck the Nibelheim boy's mouth hard.

It became a blur of bodies, lips, cocks, slaps, bites, pinches and dirty talk. Cloud wasn't sure how many times he'd released, how many times he felt wet heat being shot into him, who was in his ass or mouth, who was pulling his hair, twisting his arms behind him, shoving his head down, pounding in again and again and again and hitting that spot just right…all he knew was it was hard, filthy, brutal, and he loved it - loved how Ray kept his promise to fill him up, loved how Ralph kept his promise to fuck him hard, loved how Reno always knew to treat him so roughly, loved how Jared made good on what he said about sucking Cloud dry and eating him out.

He can't be sure how long this went on, found it hard to believe he could keep going. Then his eyes went wide as he felt his hole being stretched more than it had ever been, looked down and shook his head frantically and tried to move away but Reno and Ralph had him in strong grips as they pushed themselves inside him while holding him up. His cries - of pain? pleasure? - were cut off as Ray shoved fingers coated with cum into his mouth, and Cloud instinctively suckled them, noticed how dark Ray's eyes were before the brunette pulled his fingers out and slapped Cloud across the face as Reno and Ralph began to move. Cloud watched as Ray slammed himself into Jared over and over again, Jared's moans and the wet sloppy sound pushing Cloud closer to the edge even as his ass was stretched and abused. His vision was suddenly filled with Reno as the red-head kissed him hard, grabbed his hair and yanked his head to the side to allow Ralph to bite down on Cloud's neck.

_Too much, too much, don't stop don't stop don't stop…_

Reno pulled back, thread of saliva hanging between his lips and Cloud's, smirked as he continued thrusting then grabbed Cloud's jaw and squeezed, forcing the blond's mouth open as the red head spat inside. "Swallow it," the taller cadet ordered, blue eyes almost black as the blond obeyed. While Ralph and Reno moved inside him in some sort of rhythm, Cloud heard Jared cry out in pleasure. Reno pulled out suddenly, moved back and forced Cloud's head down to taste himself and a cocktail of cum. As Ralph came inside Cloud's ass the red-head yanked Cloud's head back and spurted across his face, some drops getting into Cloud's still open mouth. "Keep it open," Reno said, and Cloud obeyed as his face was turned so that someone else could give him a facial too. They yanked his head up and back, ordered him to open his eyes - he managed to somehow, though the cum stung - then the warm wetness was being spread around his face, fingers were in his mouth thrusting and holding it open, Ralph was spitting inside, and Jared's mouth was forced against his, ordered to clean Cloud up while fingers sticky with cum thrust into his mouth from both sides, holding it wide as Jared's tongue laved against his and hands fisted his length, squeezing and twisting and pumping. Cloud was coming again hard and distantly thought he should be shocked at this proof of how much he loved being treated like this.

He wondered how the others had so much energy, even without Mako-enhancements, then all coherent thought left his mind as they pushed him back down and fucked him harder than before.

_##_

_Damn, I'm sore._

Reno stretched, moaned a little in pleasure as his spine gave a light  _crack_. He was glad Ray had had coffee delivered, the smell of the caffeine having woken him up, only to see the brunette at the table pouring whisky into their mugs.

_Alco._

… _fuck it. YOLO, bitches._

He took the cup the Junon cadet held out to him, noticed how Ray was wearing the same sated and rested expression he assumed he was, and they clinked their mugs together, content to drink in silence.

"Coffee." Ralph's voice was still a little hoarse, and wordlessly Reno passed him a mug, the black-haired boy throwing himself into a chair and downing the contents before slamming the mug back down and grabbing a cigarette from the pack on the table. Ray was already refilling the other cadet's mug with whisky and coffee.

They drank in silence some more, before their rumbling bellies alerted them to the fact that they used up a lot of energy last night.

 _But damn, that was worth it_ , Reno mused, thinking back to their activities. He didn't have anything against group sex, had enjoyed his fair share in fact, and he knew the others had been game given how they had acted around Cloud.

Speaking of said blond…

There was a low groan coming from the bedroom, and a voice hoarse from sleep and too much moaning and panting the night before reached their ears. "Okay there, Cloudy?" So Jared was awake, it seems. As was Cloud. The only response to Jared's question was a quiet sound.

Reno lit a cigarette, wondered how the little blond would even be able to move today, given everything they'd done to him.

The memory of last night's activities made his heart start to race. Cloud had been  _hot_  - the little blond clearly enjoying the rough sex and the gang bang, right down to the double penetration and the abuse. Reno wondered again at how a 15 year old hillbilly had such pornstar-like qualities, recalling how Cloud had taken them all in with this mouth and ass, never saying 'no', moaning and grinding and sucking like he loved being treated like their whore.

 _Dammit, not getting a boner now_ , Reno thought to himself.  _Food first. And maybe we need to buy Strife some potions._

They HAD fucked him hard, after all. The kid would need help walking today.

Rising and stubbing out his cigarette, Reno started to boil some water, looking for a cloth he could use to place against Cloud's back. Ray seemed to read his mind, handing him a handkerchief as Ralph headed to the room to check on the two blonds. Reno could hear some low murmuring, rustling as someone rose from the bed, then water running.

Must be Jared taking a shower, Reno mused. He'd felt a lot more human after his, that was for sure. The clean clothes that had somehow appeared helped as well.

_Speaking of which, where the hell had these clothes come from? And why do they fit perfectly?_

The kettle whistled, piercing sound making Reno's ears hurt and distracting him from his thoughts. He shut off the flames, poured the hot water into a bowl that Ray had placed beside him, soaked the handkerchief in it as he headed into the room.

Ralph was stroking Cloud's hair, which was matted with sweat and cum, murmuring comforting nothings at the smaller boy who was lying on his front, head buried in a pillow. In the dim lighting, Reno could see the bruises and bite marks covering the blond cadet, who had a sheet draped lightly over his lower body. He nodded at Ralph, sat on a dry spot, and moved the sheet away as Cloud protested weakly.

"Warm cloth, Strife," Reno told the blond, who stilled and quietened immediately. The red head twisted excess water from the handkerchief, laying it down on the smaller boy when he was sure it wasn't too hot. Cloud's soft, grateful moan told him the warm cloth was welcome against the pain and soreness.

Ray knocked on the door to get their attention. "Some potions on the way," the brunette said, looking at Cloud. A low grunt was the only response Ray got from the small blond, Cloud clearly too exhausted from the night before to speak.

 _That or his voice was probably too hoarse all his pretty moaning last night_ , a voice whispered insidiously.

Dammit, Reno was NOT going to get a boner now. Not while Cloud was still in pain. Maybe after the Nibelheim cadet had recovered enough to walk.

The sounds of the shower had stopped, and soon Jared was out of the bathroom looking refreshed and wearing the same 'cat got the cream' expression they all had. The hedonistic blond was strutting naked around the room, looking for all the world like he was up for another round right then and there.

_Blonds really do have more fun._

Reno shook his head in amusement and amazement, grinned as Jared decided to dry himself off by rubbing against Ray, who was standing in the doorway chuckling at the other boy. Ralph was snickering, hands continuing their gentle soothing strokes on Cloud's back.

A knock on the front door, and Ray went to answer it, telling Jared to put some clothes on before some stranger jumped him - to which the other boy just preened and asked if 'daddy was worried' - Reno laughed.

_Slut._

He looked down at the smaller blond, took the handkerchief and soaked it in the warm water again before laying it on the Nibelheim cadet who made a small noise of appreciation. Ray was back in the room, holding out two bottles of potions to Ralph for him to feed to Cloud. The black haired boy nodded, accepted the bottles and uncapped one before tapping Cloud lightly on the shoulder.

"Potions, Cloud. C'mon." The blond pushed himself up weakly, and Reno assumed Cloud was really exhausted given how he allowed Ralph to feed him the medicinal concoction. When the two bottles were emptied, Cloud just closed his eyes and lay back down.

A muffled "gimme ten minutes" came from the blond, who then turned his head slightly to make his next words more audible. "Let me take a shower, and we'll go eat. I could hear your stomachs rumbling from in here."

It seemed when he was tired and in pain, the pretty little cadet's natural reticence faded enough to allow his leadership qualities to come through audibly - the blond giving voice to his concern over their conditions, giving directions and making decisions. Reno was impressed and a little amused, and he could tell the others were too by the raised eyebrows and small smiles on their lips. He squirrelled this new morsel of information away, filed it under the ever growing mental folder marked 'Cloud Strife'.

"You got it, boss," Ralph said teasingly, rising and heading back out. Cloud just grunted at him.

They decided wordlessly to give Cloud some privacy, all of them heading out to the living room and drinking more of the whisky with coffee Ray was passing around. Reno wondered at the brunette's connections - when the other boy had told him last night that he'd sorted out their accommodation for the night, he'd thought the kid was taking them back above the Plate to some fancy hotel. How did the Junon kid know where to go and who to call here in the slums, when he was a rich outsider? And who had he called for the coffee and potions and (Reno assumed) fresh clothes?

_And what was up with that old cat BOWING to you last night, Johnson?_

Too many questions. Reno looked at Ray, was about to open his mouth to ask, but something in the brunette's air made him still. He could tell the other boy didn't want to talk about it, was mentally  _willing_  them not to ask, and Reno decided to respect that.

_For now._

He'd find out eventually. Just as he'd find out what was up with Cloud's sudden attitude and aptitude change.

They could hear the sounds of the shower running, started discussing where to eat and what to do till tomorrow evening (when they'd have to return to the barracks) when Ray's phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, expression puzzled, but answered anyway. Reno could hear Grant's rumbling tones but couldn't make out what the Corel boy was saying. Whatever it was, Ray seemed amused.

"Yeah, we're headed out to eat here," Ray lit a cigarette. "No clue what we're up to after. Wanna meet us at the station under the Plate?"

More rumbling over the line, and Ray was saying "yeah, 20 minutes sounds good. See you." Then he hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "So Tranton decorated a train carriage last night and they had to run for it before they got caught."

They laughed at that, Jared  _aww_ -ing at his little teddy bear's antics.

The bedroom door opened, and they all turned to see Cloud walking towards them, hair dripping wet and staining his pale blue dress shirt with random dark spots, looking tired but not in pain. As the smaller cadet neared, Reno peered closely - there it was: that sated expression. He smirked at the blond, smirk widening as Cloud sat gingerly down on a chair and the blond winced slightly as he reached out to grab a mug of coffee'd whisky, deliberately ignoring them all. They didn't miss the flush that crept up a pale, bite-mark covered neck as the blond tried not to squirm under their very smug gazes.

_Yeah, you know you loved it, Strife._

Reno was surprised he felt a lot better about last night now that Cloud was obviously in less pain. Inwardly, he frowned. He was caring too much about Strife, he realized. Caring too much about all of them.

 _And the more you care, the more it'll hurt when it's taken from you_ , a voice whispered.

He looked down at his coffee-whisky mix, scowling slightly. He'd been enjoying himself, dammit, he didn't need that stupid downer right now - he wasn't the emo blondie from some backwater mountain town - though he knew what the voice said was true. Hood rats learned quick not to care, not to get attached to anyone or anything. In the slums, that meant getting hurt - and no one wanted to get any more hurt than they already were.

A tap on the table, and Reno looked up. The others were looking at him with concern, and Cloud had a worried furrow to his brow.

"What's wrong, Reno?" the blond's voice was slightly hoarse still, the expression in his baby blues capturing Reno's attention.

They were troubled, understanding, kind. And far too wise for Cloud's 15 years.

_What the hell?_

"You OK, dude?" Reno turned, saw Ralph looking at him worriedly. "Need a potion or something?"

He looked around the table, saw everyone wearing similar expressions, felt something tighten in his chest, looked back down and saw his own troubled face reflected in the dark waters.

They were concerned. They cared. They weren't out to get him, weren't out to take anything from him. They were just cadets trying to graduate from the training program, just a bunch of 15 year olds hanging out and enjoying each other's company.

Well, Cloud had his moments of acting way older than 15, but Reno would figure the reason for that out eventually.

Dimly, he realized Cloud was speaking quietly with the rest. "Think he needs a doctor. Anyone notice a clinic on our way here?"

"I'll find out." That was Ray. Reno heard some rustling, saw movement in his peripheral vision that meant the brunette was taking his cellphone out of his pocket.

The feeling in his chest was new, foreign, alien. Reno was horrified.

_I'm NOT getting all emo like that damned chocobo. Be cool, man. Be cool._

He cleared his throat, pasted on his usual careless expression. "I'm good man, don't worry. Just hungry is all. Used up all my energy last night." He forced a smirk and winked at Cloud, who flushed red even while his old, worried eyes never left Reno's.

"If you're sure…" Ray didn't seem convinced, none of them did. But Reno was glad they were all smart enough to let it go.

"Let's go meet the others, then." Jared downed the rest of his drink and stood. "I need to get myself filled up." Of course the blond's words and tone were laden with innuendo. Reno smirked, this time for real, and stood as well.

Cloud came up next to him as they were heading out, lightly knocking their hands together to get Reno's attention. The red-head wondered at how the blond seemed to know not to touch him or engage him without warning, to approach Reno gently and unthreateningly. He looked at the smaller cadet, saw the concern that lingered in those pretty blue eyes before they were averted.

"I'm...here," the blond said, flushing a little and studiously looking at the ground. Reno knew the other cadet was bad at the emotional, sappy stuff - Cloud was the most awkward of them all when it came to basic social interaction after all - but so was he. The memory of their little Hallmark moment near the church that time always made him cringe slightly.

He nodded, repeating Cloud's words back from that time back at the blond: "I know."

They both understood. The pressure was gone from Reno's chest, the pessimistic, negative voice in his head silenced by Cloud's gentle gaze, the care shown by the others.

Reno was glad to have them. He wasn't a hood rat anymore, he realized. 'Bottom dweller' was no longer his only identity.

He was a cadet in the SOLDIER program. He had people around him who cared, and he'd be damned before he lost them. If the slums had taught him one thing, it was that you had to fight to hold on to what you had. And Reno was one of the best fighters around.

_But I'm STILL gonna rock the suit and tie._

There was no way in hell he'd wear that fat ugly belt and  _oo-rah_  around town. Reno was too cool for that.

He slung an arm around Cloud's shoulders, Ray holding the door for them as Jared and Ralph waited in the corridor. As a group, they headed out together into the sights and sounds of the slums.

_Thanks._

He wouldn't say it. But he knew they knew.

They were friends.

##

_Home sweet home._

Zack threw himself onto his sofa gratefully, pleased sigh escaping his lips as he sank into the plush cushions, laying his head back and thanking all the Ancients they'd finally arrived.

Being Brigadier General definitely had its perks. Upon touch down at the SOLDIER helipad, a team of grunts had been waiting to schlep the evidence to Intelligence for those poor unfortunate souls to analyze and prepare a report for the General by 0900 Monday. Sephiroth had dismissed Zack with a nod, heading to his office because the man was a workaholic nut-job who never passed up a chance to do some paperwork.

Though Zack sometimes read it as his commander preferring the bustle of Shinra Tower to the silent emptiness of his large, sterile penthouse.

Still…the Mission From Hell had its upside. Like the fact that his commander had all but admitted to liking Cloud. Zack grinned at that recollection, pumped his fist in the air.  _Score!_

Even though it didn't seem like much - just Sephiroth asking if Zack had wished Cloud had been there with them - but to Zack it spoke volumes. The General had been badly injured, which meant that his world famous self control had been considerably weakened, armor cracked open, true thoughts and feelings easy pickings.

But Zack hadn't even had to nudge, hadn't even had to poke at the deep currents usually hidden beneath a surface of unflappable calm.

Sephiroth had brought up Cloud's name on his own, without any prompting.

Zack whooped again, now safely in the privacy of his home, threw his head back and laughed with relief. The Search Was Over. He'd Found The One.

_Hallelujah! Thank you, Ancients!_

He would invite Cloud and his posse over for a meal or a movie, Zack decided. Then he'd  _oh so casually_  get the General to drop by while Zack distracted the other cadets and left Cloud alone with the silver-haired genius.

 _Maybe I should set up some video cameras,_ the black haired man mused.

He wasn't sure if the cameras would just capture the hottest sex tape ever, or priceless footage of Sephiroth bumbling. The General might be the smartest person in the world, but…

_He's still the dumbest smart person I know._

Grinning to himself, Zack wondered how else to nudge his commander a little further along.

Then his stomach rumbled, reminding him of his own plans for the weekend.

He moved semi-reluctantly - his sofa was  _soooooo comfyyyy_  - reached for his cellphone to speed-dial a favorite. The call connected after half a ring, and a familiar throaty voice was in his ears.

" _Hello, darling."_

Zack grinned. He always loved the sounds Lara made whenever he fucked her - her crisp upper class accent and upbringing making men all over the world want to debase her. The woman knew it too - was a natural at pleasing her bed partners, had turned her body and skills and connections into a veritable empire of sin.

"Hey babe," he said, resting his head back. "Busy?"

A chuckle. "When am I ever too busy for you, sweetie?"

Damn, Lara could work it. He'd heard stories of men cumming just from the sound of her voice. He didn't doubt them - the stories, that is.

"Bet you say that to everyone," he smiled, enjoying their usual banter. She chuckled again, wisely stayed silent. "Anyway, I just got back. And I'm  _starving_ , in every sense of the word."

This time she laughed, and Zack was pleased. If Lara was amused, she'd stay overnight.

"I'll be there in 20 minutes with a six-course dinner," she purred. Zack smirked. He couldn't wait.

Just as he was about to hang up, his thoughts turned back to his commander.

_Maybe…would it?_

_Oh yes it would._

"I'd like to order a Happy Meal for a friend of mine." Lara had waited patiently on the line while he'd debated doing this, and she responded as though there hadn't been a lull in the conversation followed by a sudden request.

"Any Happy Meal in particular?" Her tone was the same as always. The Lady was a Professional.

Zack grinned. "The Disney Princesses, if they're available."

He could hear the smirk in her voice. Lara was definitely staying over tonight. And probably throwing in something special for Zack, given he was blowing two months' worth of his ridiculous salary on the General.

"Of course. Your friend will receive his Happy Meal in 30 minutes. Do wish him  _bon apetit_  for me."

Then a  _click_ , and the dial tone told Zack his meal and desserts were on their way. As were Sephiroth's Disney Princesses: blond, blue-eyed Siblings of Sin. One was nicknamed the Little Mermaid for the way he moved and sounded, another Sleeping Beauty because there was virtually no one as beautiful you could ever hope to sleep with, and the youngest was Snow White for the way he milked you dry and looked when covered in cum. Between the three of them, they could make anyone believe in fairy tales and happy endings and magic.

_Well, not ANYONE._

The General's stubborn pride and natural scepticism didn't allow for such things. No matter. This was all part of Zack's sly plan.

His Get-Seph-A-Life-Tis was back with a vengeance.

Zack grinned, texted his superior officer:  _Ordered you a Happy Meal. ETA 30._

He didn't have to wait long for a response, phone beeping within seconds of his message being sent:  _Copy_.

_Oh, so he wanted to play it cool now?_

_Not even a 'thank you'_ , Zack huffed to himself.  _Just you wait._

Typing furiously:  _Try not to call Cloud's name by mistake._

He waited, but knew Sephiroth wouldn't deign to respond. No matter. Zack had achieved his objectives:

  1. Remove 'sexual frustration' from the list of possible excuses when Sephiroth met Cloud. No one could physically still be raring to go after a night with the Disney trio. Not even the General. Hopefully.
  2. The Three Princesses weren't the General's type - there was no risk of any attachment developing, given they weren't, well, anything like Cloud, who was tough, cool, independent, strong, smart and a mystery (for now). So spending a night with three blond haired blue-eyed beauties was only going to reinforce how very special the pretty little cadet was. How very unique and irreplaceable. Which would make the General wish they were the pretty little cadet - because that was only human. To want what your heart desired, to feel cold even in a warm embrace if it wasn't the person you wanted embracing you.
  3. (Which tied in with point number 2): Plant Cloud's name in his head just before a night with the Three Princesses so that the General would spend all night forcing himself not to say Cloud's name - and therefore spend all night thinking about the Nibelheim cadet wishing it was Cloud in his bed and not professional sirens. Which meant that Sephiroth's desire for the little blond would be at a peak by the time they met, given the General would be physically sated but emotionally unsatisfied after tonight.



_Love Doctor 1 - Crazy Commander 0._

_DAMN, I'm good._  Zack grinned, reaching up and patting himself on the shoulder.

He'd known there was a reason why he'd made Brigadier General at such a young age.

_Tonight's gonna be a good, good night._

He wasn't even going to bother with toeing off his boots or taking a shower before Lara got here. One of Lara's girls - he couldn't remember her name, was it Joan or Jane? - had an amazing technique of removing Zack's boots that made him hard just thinking about. Another of the harem - he believed it was Joan/Jane's twin brother - liked cleaning Zack with his tongue. The filthier Zack was the better - and alright Zack was definitely hard now - thinking back to that time he'd stumbled home covered in blood and sweat.

He glanced at his watch - he had 10 more minutes till they got here.

_Wonder what Cloud's up to…_

_Probably being fucked six ways to Sunday by that red-head._

Zack wasn't sure how to feel about that. He scanned his contacts for Cadet Affairs, dialled the number and waited a few rings. A bored voice answered, instantly becoming alert upon realizing it was Brigadier General Fair calling. Inwardly, Zack was amused at how much he assumed the clerk on the other line must be quaking in his boots, given how shaky his voice was and how hard he was trying not to stammer as he answered Zack's question.

_Wha…?_

Zack's eyebrows rose, thanking the clerk and hanging up while the poor palpitating paper-pusher was still saying goodbye. He was too consumed with his thoughts to care about how rude he'd been.

_SIX bunkers went out last night? Ninety-five cadets? And only seventy-six made it back?_

Since when did the cadets hang out in such a big group?

The clerk had informed Zack that in fact all bunkers would have gone out if it wasn't for the three that were being punished with weekend duty.

 _Was this because of Cloud?_  It had to be. Zack was considered a Connector, a social networking force of nature, The Ultimate Mr. Congeniality, but even during his time bunkers had never hung out together like this. And as far as he knew that practice had continued until...the Nibelheim cadet's attitude and aptitude 180.

Through the shock, Zack registered the pride swelling his chest at how influential the little blond kid was.

 _Like a Boss._  He cheered, pumped a fist in the air, not sure why he took so much pride in a kid he'd only spoken to a few times but not really caring right now, so consumed was he with joy for the little blond.

Then he sobered. Cloud and his friends - except for that Kalm kid - were among the nineteen who hadn't returned till now, though the clerk had stated that more than fifty cadets had checked out of the barracks at various times this afternoon and headed out.

Cloud probably wouldn't return until tomorrow evening when it was time to check back in, because that's what Zack used to do when he was a cadet out on a Friday night in town.

Zack also knew that if he'd been out painting the town red with buddies as ridiculously good-looking as Reno, Johnson, Vikers and Fontaine, he'd be spending all weekend in a tangled, sweaty mess of bodies.

Somehow it seemed wrong to think about Cloud that way. The kid was far too innocent looking to be associated with anything kinky.

 _But he's not that innocent_ , a voice whispered.

_I know._

Zack's brow furrowed. He'd known the blond was getting it on with Reno, had seen the tell-tale signs many times before. But for the pretty little kid to be  _gang-banged_? Even by cadets as bad as his posse?

 _And those kids are very, VERY bad_ , the voice whispered again insidiously.

He really wasn't prepared for the surge of protectiveness, the feeling almost like that of a possessive older sibling whose baby brother was wanting to go out and play with his own friends, no longer childishly worshipful of big brother, no longer wanting to always be by big brother's side.

_Why do I care so much about you, Cloud Strife?_

The intercom buzzed and dragged him from his thoughts, front desk recognizing Lara and her crew - sending them up to his apartment no questions asked - and simply notifying Zack of their arrival.

… _fuck it. YOLO, bitches._

Zack would investigate further next week, when he pulled that bunch of cadets aside for some private training. Right now, Lara was sashaying into his apartment with a bottle of champagne, six more of her harem behind her carrying food and more alcohol.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Zack grinned as the green-eyed beauty leaned down and gave him a kiss, her perfume wafting over him but not assaulting his senses. He inhaled appreciatively."You wore the perfume I like?"

Lara leaned back, tugged at the ribbon of her wraparound dress, stood smirking as it fell off her shoulders and onto the floor.

"I wore EVERYTHING you like, darling," she purred.

 _Damn_ , Lara was good.

Zack half-groaned, half-laughed. He was very glad he was alive. And young. And male.

He reached for her, but her cat-like eyes - at times uncannily similar to Sephiroth's, though more by design than chance - narrowed playfully and she  _tsk tsk_ 'ed at him.

"Not so fast, SOLDIER," she winked. "We need to get you cleaned up and fed first."

The lights were dimmed, music playing softly in the background. Then the harem were on him, warm food being served mouth-to-mouth, whisky, champagne, wine, vodka being poured down his throat - and alright that Joan/Jane was too damn good at this move but fuck it, Zack loved the way her ass looked from here as she removed his boots, wispy long silver hair within reach of his hands - and her brother was licking Zack clean, moist lips and that pink tongue making the First lean his head back and close his eyes with pleasure.

_Home sweet home._

All thoughts of Cloud and Sephiroth were forgotten as Lara joined the fray. Zack was glad he'd had the foresight to purchase a huge 8 seater sofa.

_Life is good._

##

Cloud couldn't recall a time when he'd found anything this funny. Ever. He supposed a combination of hopefulness for the future, his grades being on track, the roller coaster of emotions he'd been through the past few days (especially after the non-dream dream), a (very) good night, and the alcohol he was imbibing was helping him see the humor in the situation.

As it was, he was clutching his stomach - which had probably turned into a six-pack by now - struggling to maintain control and trying not to laugh because it hurt too much.

Who knew being so happy could be so painful?

_Ahem. Really?_

_Oh for fuck's sake. Shut up._

The voices were begging for a beating.

Cloud resolutely focused on the cadets in front of him, determined not to give in to the negativity that pervaded his every waking moment in the future. He wasn't in the future, right now. He would be in the Here and Now if that was the last thing he did.

It helped that Brian, Grant, Jared, Ralph and several other cadets were still going at it as he watched from the floor - there weren't any chairs available - whisky bottle clutched in one hand as he leaned against Ray for support. Reno had long ago fallen flat on his back with glee, rolling about with laughter on the filthy ground of the makeshift carnival in the slums like a child watching someone slip on banana peel for the first time.

As Cloud watched, Jared continued to twerk - why hadn't the taller blond won the stupid game already? - trying to get the ping pong balls out of the tissue box strapped to his butt, and trying to help Brian get his out as well (though the Kalm cadet was not keen on Jared's assistance at all, no sir). It didn't help Brian's case that his left leg was tied to Jared's right - which meant the light brown haired boy couldn't escape the lewd blond even if he wanted to. Grant, for all his dancing skills, was unable to shake his booty as well as Jared. His partner wasn't any help: Ralph had been banned from breaking - the black haired cadet had at first challenged everyone to this game because he'd thought he would win in seconds - which meant that their resident b-boy was now struggling to twerk to the song blasting shrilly at them from cheap speakers, while attempting to help the Corel boy who towered over him even at 15 years of age.

A whistle from the attendant, and the sign held up this time indicated they had to keep one leg in the air while continuing to try to get all the balls out of their individual boxes. Which meant that they would have to coordinate with their partners - either both parties raised the legs that were tied to each other, or they raised their 'free' legs. Immediately several pairs fell flat on their faces while the peanut gallery yelled encouragement - though Cloud resolutely refused to participate in the cheerful ragging and insults - and Ralph gave them the Finger while he struggled to maintain his footing, the height difference between him and Grant making coordination extremely difficult. It didn't help that the rules required them to keep moving to the song.

Most of the cadets from other bunkers had given up long ago, with only a brave few still participating against "those crazy bastards from Bunker 7". Cloud was inwardly pleased at the reputation they were developing. Being able to intimidate with reputation alone meant having an easier time in a fight.

_Why the hell are you thinking about fighting other cadets?_

_...Good question._

Cloud wondered again at what Ray had put in the cigarettes. The brunette was crying with laughter, unable to cheer his friends on because he was struggling to breathe. Then Brian knocked into Ralph while trying to escape Jared, the three of them struggled to keep their balance and failed, causing Grant to fall on them and crush everyone's tissue boxes (and ping pong balls) with a loud popping  _PRAPPP -_ and alright Cloud couldn't control his laughter either, clapping a hand over his mouth to mask his reaction to the four cadets yelling (Jared, Ralph and Brian in more pain than panic) and the expressions on their faces.

Ray fell over laughing - face landing right in Cloud's lap.

" _My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard"_

_That escalated quickly._

Cloud was blushing - Reno noticed his discomfort and laughed even harder,  _the bastard_  - as the gusts of warm air from Ray's mirth were hitting a rather sensitive spot between Cloud's legs.

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

Ray was doing this on purpose. The brunette's body was shaking with laughter, causing his face to rub against Cloud's inner thighs and his mouth to move perilously close to Cloud's happy place.

Ralph was yelling curses as colorful as Cid's, and distantly Cloud wondered if the two were related - he knew all the same vulgarities by heart by now - as the black haired boy struggled to crawl out from under Grant - who resembled a bull on its back after a successful cow-tipping - forgetting their legs were tied to each other's. It didn't help that Jared and Brian had somehow gotten their legs tangled in the mess, nor did it help that Jared was trying to pick ping pong balls up with his (fully clothed) butt to pass to Brian.

More yells and laughter, and Cloud turned to see the other cadets in the game had all fallen over laughing, legs tangled, tissue boxes and ping pong balls crushing under the hilarity of the situation. He struggled not to laugh out loud, bent over shaking with the effort of controlling his mirth, when he realized that his position just made Ray's head move that much closer to his crotch.

" _Just get the perfect blend_

_And what you have within"_

_Oh fuck._

He locked eyes with Ray, the brunette's now taking on a decidedly devilish look in the shadow cast by Cloud's torso.

_Oh fuck me._

_That can be arranged_ , the perverted voice was Back in Black.

Hastily, Cloud straightened, determined to blame his laughter for the flushed cheeks. Ray was still nonchalantly lying on the ground with his head in Cloud's lap, smirking up at him, looking for all the world like he was perfectly used to stretching out in the dirt under the Plate.

Cloud was too proud to ask the other boy to move, didn't want to admit defeat to a 15 year old kid, not when he'd beaten the Freak That Fell and numerous incarnations of evil. But Ray's eyes had that glint in them, and Cloud hurriedly averted his gaze.

Was it just him or was the air conditioning busted?

_There wasn't any air conditioning to start with, idiot._

Would someone just cut him some slack already?

He glanced at the mess in front of him, saw that the stall attendant had stopped laughing at the bumbling cadets long enough to come to their aid and snip at the strings tying their legs together. As they were released from their bonds, Jared took the opportunity to grope Brian's crotch - innocently claiming to be checking if Brian's ping pong balls had gotten crushed too - then Brian's sputtering screeches were filling the air and Reno and Ray were cracking up again.

He really wished everyone would stop being so damn funny. If they kept it up, Ray would never get off his lap.

_Well…you COULD just ask him to move, dumbass._

_Shut up._

Cloud would NOT admit defeat to a 15 year old kid - even if he WAS 15 years old as well (physically). Never mind that his 15 year old opponent was sin incarnate, and Cloud was learning that his 15 year old self could resist everything but temptation.

How very apt that he was now quoting someone who'd been imprisoned for batting for the same team.

Ray shifted, drawing Cloud's attention back to the present as the brunette grinned at him - eyes knowing - casually placing a warm palm on Cloud's inner thigh to prop himself up, face and lips dangerously close to Cloud's as the Junon cadet rose.

Cloud found himself unable to break away from the hypnotic power of those silver eyes, wanted to kiss Ralph when the black-haired boy stomped over cursing about the impact to his back.

_That can be arranged too._

_Shut up._

Suddenly there was jostling, and Reno and Ralph were rolling about on the ground mock fighting, hurling insults at each other that were more childish that cruel, as Jared and Ray egged them on, waving gil notes in the air and throwing gil coins at the two. Brian was giggling to himself from where he stood a few feet away from Jared - clever boy - and Grant was trying to teach them how to wrestle by yelling technical terms at the two bickering buffoons, receiving the Finger for his efforts. Cloud couldn't stop the small chuckle that escaped him at their antics, couldn't help feeling…happy.

He stilled. He…honestly felt happy. It wasn't one of those ecstatic, overflowing with joy, scream to the heavens types of happy. It wasn't a weepy, sobbing, relieved kind of happy. It was just a warm, calm, peaceful feeling that flooded his system and seemed to make everything beautiful, perfect, golden.

_What…_

He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt like this. When his team had won Battle Sims, he'd been more of the overflowing with joy, bursting at the seams-type happy. When he'd beaten Sephiroth and saved the world twice, it had been the relieved, tired feeling of satisfaction. When he'd realized he had a second chance, could prevent Sephiroth, Zack and Aeris from ever dying, he'd been ecstatic yet terrified of failing them all again.

Was happiness something you could feel sitting in the dirt in the slums, surrounded by people your age who were acting their age, with the Deadline of Dreams approaching as the sights and sounds and smells of poverty blanketed them, and the Symbol of Oppression loomed overhead?

 _Why not?_  This time the voice sounded like Aeris and Tifa, gentle yet stern, indulgent yet firm.

_Because happiness is reserved for special occasions. For people who're...not me._

_Says who?_  Aeris' eyes were twinkling at him playfully, Tifa's were gleaming dangerously.

_Everyone?_

_Who's everyone?_  At least the two ladies had plenty of practice dealing with him.

_...I don't know._

_So why can't you be happy now?_  Trust them to ask the tough questions.

… _because I don't deserve it._

 _Why not?_  He wasn't sure whose voice this was now, who it sounded like, because it seemed like everyone he'd ever cared about yet no one he could identify.

… _because I failed._

 _...You won't. Not this time._  The voice was little more than a gentle whisper, fading into eternity, and yet the utter faith and confidence in the tone reminded him of Zack, Aeris, Tifa, Vincent, Barrett, Cid, Yuffie, Red XIII, Cait Sith, Reeve, his mother, everyone who had ever looked at him like he was worth something, like he was someone they cared about, someone they believed in.

He clenched his jaw, blinked back tears, heard familiar voices in the teasing tones he was becoming used to, struggled to focus as an arm slipped around his waist and a familiar weight settled on his shoulder.

"…baby," he tuned in just as Reno was finishing his sentence, saw the red-head mock glaring at Ray who had an expression of complete innocence on his face.

… _you're not fooling anyone, Johnson._

They noticed he was back with them, laughed and ruffled his hair, teasing him some more, though Cloud didn't miss the concerned expression in their eyes, or how Ray was gently massaging his lower back.

_They thought he was still in pain?_

_Did this mean they wouldn't be going for Cadets Gone Wild Volume 2 tonight?_

Cloud had been spending way too much time with these perverts.

Grant was demanding food - Cloud wasn't surprised, the burly Corel boy needing to consume more than five times what he himself ate - and Reno was nodding, giving the other boy his usual catchphrase ("I know a place") then laughingly reminding the bigger cadet that they had just eaten two hours ago.

Cloud realized he was hungry as well, wondered why that was - giving the perverted voice in his head a mental kick to shut it up as it opened its disembodied mouth to drop a one-liner - especially since they really HAD just eaten.

They'd met up with the others at the station under the Plate, Brian having to be supported by Grant, instantly hiding behind the taller cadet when he caught sight of Jared but moving too slowly to evade the slinky blond. Grant had relinquished his responsibilities as bodyguard on the spot, hulking over to greet Cloud and the others (Cloud was getting used to being called "Boss" far too quickly). Lunch had been a rowdy affair as usual, with Bunker 7 cadets rubbing their dance victory in the faces of the cadets from other bunkers who'd been present - it hadn't helped that Reno had taken them to one of those street stalls that didn't have any non-alcoholic drinks on offer, nor did it help that Ray was exceedingly generous, purchasing more bottles for everyone from a nearby bootlegger (who'd also given the brunette a wary look, and had offered the bottles for cheap, Cloud realized. He wondered what was up with that, having no memories to go on).

The cadets had wandered around aimlessly, still raising eyebrows with the size of their group (more than thirty in all) but not causing the same consternation they had the night before. No one was questioning why Cloud, Reno, Ray, Ralph and Jared had stayed under the Plate, and Cloud was glad that the others were playing it cool as well, making it seem as though they had just stayed back drinking (though their fresh outfits should have raised some eyebrows - but maybe the other cadets just assumed they had crashed at Reno's). It wasn't like there were any other hood rats in the cadet program. No one but Reno and Cloud (thanks to his future self, and his time spent with the red-head here) knew how Reno really lived before cadet training, knew how the street smart kid had gained his street smarts.

Cloud realized that the future Reno letting him know, even while drunk, had meant the red-head valued their relationship more than the blond knew. He kicked himself mentally for failing to notice, to reciprocate, then kicked himself again for getting all worked up about it when now he had a chance to do it  _right from the start_.

When they'd spotted the signs to this makeshift carnival, Cloud had been hesitant - he hated clowns - but he hadn't wanted to be cause for concern, so he'd steeled himself and entered without a fuss. Reno's arm around his shoulders had helped. The blond had been relieved to note that in the slums, the carnivals didn't have clowns - because it seemed there were plenty running around already.

Then the cadets had started mini competitions at the stalls, and Cloud had just sat on the sidelines, content to observe.

The true 15 year old Cloud would have forced his way into participating, would have tried to show he was better than everyone else even though he would keep falling flat on his face and embarrass himself with his failures.

But this Cloud was older, wiser. He told himself he'd lost the chip on his shoulder, but he also knew he'd replaced it with a burden the size and weight of the planet.

_Always gotta be Mr. Moody, huh?_

_Shut up._

They weren't heading into the food district, Cloud realized when he'd stopped doing the 'cloudy thing', as the others had taken to calling it. Inwardly, he smiled - he wouldn't admit it, but he quite liked how they had named his characteristic behavior - then he looked around and realized they were walking deeper into the entertainment district, near Corneo's joint.

_Oh HELL no._

If Reno took them there, Cloud would kick his ass.

The red-head had turned a little to look at Cloud questioningly out of the corner of his eye when the blond tensed up suddenly, face expressionless except for that slightly arrogant and insolent look that was the slum kid's default setting. Cloud forced himself to relax, shook his head slightly, and Reno raised an eyebrow but turned back to the front and kept walking, taking a left turn all of a sudden and leading them away from Corneo's.

Cloud breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Eventually they came to a literal hole in the wall, cadets having to climb through what looked to have been an aborted demolition by wrecking ball. The store was cozy - warmly lit with yellow lightbulbs hanging from beams that criss-crossed above them, tables and chairs packed tightly together, TV screen mounted on the wall - the owner was a either fearless, had too much money, or was someone no one would steal from - showing some sports competition or other. At the TV's display, some cadets started excitedly chatting about their favorite teams, and instantly their red-bloodedness was in play as friendly taunts and insults were slung. Cloud shook his head, took a seat between Reno and Ray, their backs to the wall - he liked this position because it allowed him to see what was happening, NOT because he liked being pressed against the wall, thank you very much - and let Reno handle the ordering for him. The red-head knew how he liked it anyway.

His food, that is.

_Oh I'm suuuureeee…._

_Dammit_. Cloud took a swig from his bottle, then Ralph was ragging him about still having a bottle to drink from, and the others joined in to pressure him to finish it before the fresh round started.

He gave in, draining the contents and grateful that 15 year olds had better regenerative capabilities than old, non-Mako enhanced men. He knew once he got into SOLDIER he would be able to drink and smoke as much as he liked given he wouldn't contract any diseases (except Mako poisoning), but he was glad being a teenager meant he could work hard and play hard.

…hang on. 'Once he got into SOLDIER'?

_Confident, aren't we?_

_Why the hell shouldn't I be?_

Cloud was surprised at how sassy his internal voice was becoming. He'd been spending too much time with Queen Jared.

The proprietors seemed happy to have a bunch of noisy cadets in their establishment, especially given how much they drank and ate (it was mostly Grant stuffing his face - Cloud felt a little sick watching the Corel boy eat more than Cloud could consume in a week in one sitting). For his part, Cloud admitted the food was good - it helped to have casual, light-hearted conversation going on at the table, enough alcohol that their glasses were always full, and plenty of cigarettes so no one would have to make a supply run (they knew Ray had deep pockets, but this was a bit much if the brunette was really carrying around so many packs in his pants).

Jared the Dancing Queen wanted to dance, but a whisper from Ralph had him leering at Cloud - who was starting to feel a little worried. And a little excited.

… _just a little?_

Alright, so sue him, but he was getting a bit too excited for his own good, squished into a tiny restaurant in the slums and surrounded by more than thirty of his peers. The others seemed to read his mind, and Ray leaned over to whisper something to Grant, who grunted and nodded.

They left the restaurant soon after, Ray again footing the bill as was becoming his custom. Cloud wondered if the brunette had been raised to buy happiness and friendship, kicked himself for thinking that way because Ray was NOTHING like Shinra, and just thanked the Junon boy sincerely for his generosity. Ray's pleased smile made the blond's heart flutter slightly, the warmth and genuine joy in those silver eyes making them shine like stars, then Ray was getting a very wet, sloppy kiss from Jared and the brunette was laughing while grabbing the taller blond's ass as though it was second nature.

_Well, it probably is by now._

They were all spending far too much time with each other.

The group split up soon after, Brian looking like he wanted to come with them but clearly not trusting them to be decent human beings. Besides, the Kalm cadet was already unsteady on his feet from all the alcohol, and happily raced to catch up with Grant and when the Corel boy had announced he wanted to head back to the barracks and drink some more. The rest of the cadets were going separate ways in the slums - some of them to find more watering holes, some to meet up with their new friends from the night before (no need to wonder what  _that_  meant), more heading back to the barracks because they were nervous about being under the Plate so late at night.

That left Team Sex Bomb to head back to the apartment, which had been cleaned while they were out. Reno was giving Ray a very hard, measuring look, while Ralph seemed to have a rather thoughtful expression on his face as he observed the brunette, who was pretending not to notice and instead rummaging in a black bag that had been set near the counter. Grinning, the Junon cadet called Jared over, hastily clapping a hand over the blond's mouth as Jared's eyes lit up like Christmas had come early and he let out an excited squeal. Ray whispered something into his ear, and Jared nodded - then immediately came over to sit next to Cloud, who had already taken a seat at the table and was looking at them curiously.

At Cloud's questioning gaze, Jared just smirked. Then demanded someone put the music on - Ray obliged immediately - because he wanted to teach Cloud to dance.

_Oh no no no this is NOT happening._

Cloud tried to clamp his legs around his chair, but this stupid wooden thing was nowhere near as sturdy as the metal bench in their canteen, and he was dragged out of his seat with ease by the taller blond, who promptly started grinding against him, hands roving everywhere.

Reno had made himself DJ, commandeering Ray's phone and choosing a song "especially for the SOLDIER boys". Ralph had laughed and whooped excitedly, downing the glass of whisky he'd poured for himself - selfish bastard - and started to bounce back on his heels. Ray joined him - not before giving Reno a very long, hard look which the red-head met evenly - and the two were rippling their hands, cranking their wrists like they were riding bikes.

That action alone made Cloud realize how much he missed his baby.

He managed to slip out of Jared's roaming hands, made a dash for the table but was caught by Ralph, who spun him around and started moving against the small blond from behind. Cloud struggled, pleaded thirst - had Ralph forgotten that Cloud could kick all their asses without breaking a sweat? - then Ray was helpfully holding out a glass to him which he took gratefully, Ralph still keeping a hold on him and moving them both, causing Cloud to spill some of the whisky on himself. He tilted his head up to glare at the black-haired boy, only to have his mouth devoured by said cadet, deft fingers unbuttoning his shirt. Cloud had enough presence of mind to grab one of the hands with his free hand, but Ralph was apparently very good at unbuttoning shirts single-handedly, and within seconds Cloud's shirt front was open and a warm, calloused hand was pinching at his nipple.

His lips were released and Cloud greedily gulped air, tried to turn to put the glass back on the table so that he'd have two hands free to defend himself, then realized it was a mistake to twist this way when it meant his ass was no longer pressed up against Ralph - and was therefore the perfect target for a spanking.

He yelped, mortified at the sound that had escaped him, turning back to glare at Ralph only to have his face grabbed by Jared, who proceeded to kiss Cloud so thoroughly the smaller blond was beginning to forget humans needed air to survive - needed anything except this feeling and the slick dance of tongues against each other. At length, Jared pulled back, Cloud dazedly wondering why, wishing they hadn't stopped. But the taller blond smirked at him, whispered "soon, baby, soon" and winked, dancing against Ray who had a hand down the front of Jared's pants.

_That escalated quickly._

Jared was moaning, body undulating against Ray's, and the brunette just smirked, pulling his hand - already slick - out and releasing the blond who turned to pout angrily at him.

…that was odd. For a split second there had been some sort of message they were sending each other…

Ralph was teaching Cloud the basics of club dancing. Without the deafening music and blinding lights, Cloud was finding it relatively easy to pick up the steps. It helped that Ralph was right behind him, bodies practically melded to each other, as the black-haired boy guided Cloud through simple moves. The blond flushed a little with pride at Ralph's praise - chided himself instantly ( _"what are you? a kid? grow up!"_ ) - then decided to just focus on his impromptu dance lessons, right there in the living room of a random apartment in the middle of the slums.

When Ralph was satisfied Cloud had learned enough to hold his own in a club - but not on the podium and not in dance battles, though Cloud was adamant he'd never participate in one anyway - he declared they needed to toast to Cloud's new skills. To which Jared pointed out that that would mean they should have toasted upon waking up earlier today, given what Cloud had learned last night, which made the smaller blond turn a brilliant shade of red and stumble slightly as he slid into his seat, accepting the drink that was being held out to him without looking at anyone.

Then Cloud wanted to laugh. Reno had pulled out the usual deck of cards.

He buttoned his shirt while Reno dealt, ignoring Jared's obvious sounds of displeasure at his actions, feeling more comfortable as soon as he was somewhat decent again.

_You can't possibly be decent during a weekend with THIS bunch._

_Shut up._

Cloud focused on the game, and for a while they played normally. That alone - the fact that they weren't doing anything obscene - should have set off warning bells. But Cloud would come to the realization later that he had begun to let his guard down around these guys, trusted them as implicitly as he had AVALANCHE. For now, he would blame it on the alcohol.

They were midway through their fifth round, Cloud pretty confident despite only holding a two pair, when Jared suddenly said: "So, we didn't get Ralph's answer last night."

Cloud looked up, confused. What answer?

Jared looked aghast. "How could you forget?!" Then leering. "Or were you too busy enjoying yourself to notice?"

Cloud had no idea what…

_Oh NO he ISN'T._

He stared in horror, trepidation setting in as Jared turned back to Ray and Ralph and asked: "So? Who's better? Me or Cloud?"

_This…oh God no way he can't possibly be asking…_

He turned to look at the others, saw from Ray's and Ralph's deliberately thoughtful expressions that they were playing along. Reno was just snickering, taking a sip of his whisky and a drag of his cigarette as he watched the proceedings unfold.

"You know, I can't be too sure…" Ralph turned to Ray, appearing for all the world as though he was deliberating something completely innocuous like the weather.

 _Least we know there's no drought in the forecast_ , the perverted voice snickered.  _Not as long as these guys are around._

"Likewise," Ray looked completely innocent, the devil. "Replay?"

Ralph nodded. "My thoughts exactly."

Then Cloud was pinned under two very heated male gazes, and he cursed his traitorous body for getting hot and bothered.

Jared was licking his lips. "My pleasure." Then the blond was off his seat, kneeling on the ground and undoing Ray's belt buckle deftly.

Ralph was looking at Cloud, dark eyes promising a thousand different pleasures, and Cloud wondered how a motorhead from Rocket Town had morphed into such a player.

"Get over here." Ralph's husky voice was rougher than usual, the sound sending shivers up Cloud's spine as he rose from his seat. A foot pressed against his knee stopped him midway, and he turned to look at Reno questioningly. The future Turk was smirking, dilated pupils making pale blue eyes darker than usual. Reno shook his head: "Nuh-uh, you're not walking over there."

_Did they mean…?_

Cloud suppressed the excited shiver that ran through him, the sounds of Jared enthusiastically sucking Ray off filling his ears, the obscene lyrics to whatever song was playing painting lewd pictures in his mind. Hands trembling slightly, he knelt slowly, didn't miss the approving way Reno looked at him, then crawled under the table to where Ralph was, giving a little start when Reno's foot nudged against his ass. The black-haired boy had pushed his seat back slightly to allow Cloud more room, and as the blond kneeled before him he couldn't deny his hands were shaking - with desire? - as he undid the Rocket Towner's belt, unbuttoned his fly and pulled the top of his boxers down. The musky scent of Ralph's arousal filled his nostrils, but Ralph hadn't yet touched him, though Cloud could feel that heavy gaze on the back of his head as he bent forward and took the other boy's length completely into his mouth and sucked hard. Ralph's low groan told him the black-haired boy was liking it.

 _Like that hard cock in your mouth isn't?_  That stupid perverted voice was going to get a tight slap one of these days.

_Oh I'm looking forward to it…_

Ralph still hadn't touched him, and Cloud realized the black-haired boy was continuing his poker game with Ray and Reno while Jared and Cloud sucked them off respectively. He didn't want to admit how much that realization made his own length harden, should hate himself for liking this too much…

… _fuck it. YOLO._

He'd been spending too much time with Reno. And it wasn't true - he was pretty much having a second go at everything right now anyway.

_Lucky you, lucking out and getting lucky._

What was up with the bad puns? Like some amateur writer suffering from lack of sleep struggling to sound clever.

A light kick very close to his groin startled him, and he looked up, mouth still wrapped around Ralph as the black-haired boy stared down at him. "Get to work, bitch." Cloud glared at him, and this time Ralph pressed his foot against Cloud's cock, making the blond cry out though the sound was muffled.

"No going Cloudy tonight." Cloud nodded to show he understood, looked back down and sucked hard, licking and moving his head up and down the other boy, putting everything he'd been taught to use as he rebelliously sought to make Ralph cum as fast as possible as retaliation for what he'd done.

 _You know if you didn't like it, you could always just bite_ , the perverted voice was trying to be helpful, Cloud assumed.

The voice Cloud identified as Mr. Negative chimed in:  _Admit it - you want this. Because it helps make the pain go away, makes you feel wanted, fills the emptiness inside, and because you'll NEVER get the chance to do this with HIM._

That hurt.

_Because it's true?_

Cloud refused to think about it, glad all the alcohol he'd consumed was kicking in and making him feel a little buzzed and disconnected. The sounds of Jared's obscene slurping helped, as was the music playing in the background. It felt like a whole other world right now - a safe space to do these things and get it out of his system - and Cloud was sick of feeling empty inside, wishing and hoping and almost crying and trying to kill himself with liquor and crazy stunts in a future that held no happy endings for him.

Suddenly a hand was in his hair, holding his head down and pulling him from his thoughts as he was forced to take Ralph deep, almost gagging at the sudden move. He didn't struggle, kept himself still, then his head was yanked back before being pushed forward and to the side so that the head of Ralph's penis was now pushing against Cloud's cheek from the inside. He looked up at Ralph through heavy lidded eyes, glad to be able to breathe freely, saw the black-haired boy was breathing heavily and smirked.

He shouldn't have done that.

Ralph's grip tightened in his hair, then the Rocket Town cadet was brutally fucking Cloud's mouth and the blond was wishing he didn't need air to survive, that he wasn't enjoying this so much, that Ralph didn't taste so good…

Warm, salty liquid hit the back of his throat and he kept still, waiting for Ralph to completely unload before the other boy yanked his head back, "Open that mouth and let me see." That husky voice was hoarse, breathless, toned chest sweaty, and Cloud was smirking while he opened his mouth wide. A hard slap almost sent him sprawling, but he remained kneeling there looking at Ralph, opened his mouth to let the other boy plunge four fingers in, roll the cum all around inside before Ralph streaked semen and saliva across Cloud's forehead. "Swallow." Cloud swallowed then, grateful to finally be able to draw a breath, realizing he was breathing hard and sweating, and that his own cock was straining against the confines of his jeans.

"Well?" Ray sounded a lot calmer than he should be. Either Cloud had won the little contest, or the Junon kid was playing it cool.

Probably the latter.

"Try it for yourself." Then Ralph kicked the side of Cloud's hip, nodded meaningfully towards Ray's direction. "Go."

Cloud gave him another glare - just because - saw Ralph's eyes narrow dangerously and told himself he really should behave because he was probably going to regret this later…

 _Oh but you're a SUCKER for punishment, aren't you?_  The perverted voice was cackling.

Enough with the bad puns!

Cloud crawled towards Ray, passing Jared who was slinking along like some damn feline towards Ralph, the other blond looking entirely too happy about all this.

This must have been Jared's dream Sweet Sixteen.

He reached the brunette, gave his limp member a few licks, then fisted Ray and started to pump. His head was yanked back immediately by a strong grip, and Ray was pouring whisky down his throat, the sudden onslaught of alcohol making Cloud's eyes burn as he struggled to swallow. When he was done, he received a slap to the face, and opened teary eyes to look up at the brunette. "Just your mouth." He shook the hand holding Cloud's hair, rocking Cloud's head slightly. "Understand?"

Cloud nodded as best he could with his hair in such a tight grip, then Ray slapped him again. "I can't hear you."

"I understand." His voice was hoarse from the abuse his throat had received.

Another slap. "I understand…what?"

When Cloud kept stubbornly silent, his head was yanked back and more whisky was poured down his throat. This time, Ray didn't stop until it was spilling over, down the sides of Cloud's face and along his neck. He made a pleading sound in his throat, hands coming up to try to grasp Ray's knees weakly, watery eyes beseeching, a voice deep inside horrified and screaming at him to  _have some pride and just kick his ass, dammit_.

Ray stopped, shook Cloud's head again. The blond swallowed the whisky and caught his breath, coughing. "I understand…sir."

Ray smirked. "Good boy." Then he shoved Cloud's head down, the blond's nose coming to rest in dark pubic hair, and continued his poker game.

It seemed treating Cloud so roughly excited Ray, if the size of his cock now was any indication. Cloud took him into his mouth, sucking and licking and moving his head up and down, the sounds of the other boy's excitement feeding his own arousal.

At length, Cloud felt the other boy approaching climax, privately marvelled at how quickly he had recovered from Jared's attentions, then Ray was unloading into Cloud's mouth and Cloud was still sucking hard, determined to milk the other boy dry.

When the spurts stopped, he licked the underside of Ray's cock as he slowly withdrew his head, sitting back on his haunches to look up at the brunette. When Ray's eyes met his, Cloud instinctively opened his mouth - he should be shocked at how much he was behaving like a professional porn star - and the brunette smirked before he spat inside the orifice. "You can swallow now." Cloud closed his mouth, swallowed, then wondered what was next.

He didn't have to wonder long.

"Stand up."

Cloud stood, his knees popping slightly at the change in position.

"Strip."

That single word, the heated gaze on his…Cloud started to unbutton his shirt, shrugged it off as the others watched. He couldn't hear Jared sucking Ralph off, which meant that the other blond had already finished his…task.

Cloud's hands went to his belt buckle, and he flushed but kept his eyes locked on Ray's as he unclasped it, unbuttoned his fly then removed his jeans and underwear, stepping out of it and toeing his shoes and socks off as though he undressed for a living.

_Well, if SOLDIER doesn't work out…_

His cock was hard and aching, and he really REALLY wanted to just touch it…

"Lie on the table." This time it was Reno's voice, and Cloud started slightly. He sat back on the table, lay down on the wooden table top and felt playing cards stick to his back and butt - it looked like the boys had cleared the glasses and bottles when he hadn't been looking - it was large enough that he could lie with half his head over one end, but he needed to bend and raise his knees to keep his feet on the table. He flushed when he realized he was lying there like a…

_Christmas turkey?_

_HELL no._

The voices must be drunk if they were thinking of Christmas dinner right now.

"Play with yourself." Ralph's husky voice and the look in those dark eyes, made Cloud's cock twitch slightly in response. He gratefully fisted himself, pumping, a small part of him burning in shame at how wantonly he was behaving, but it felt good and he was going to cum soon…

"Stop." Ray's voice was deeper than usual, commanding, and dimly Cloud wondered if the brunette was really just a regular 15 year old rich kid.

"Not there," Reno was saying, smirking. Cloud could see the red head was struggling to control his breathing. He would have gloated, but he really really just wanted to cum and these boys and their stupid demands were…

"Get your ass ready for us." Cloud's breath caught in his throat, wide eyes looking at Ralph upside down. The black haired boy's gaze never wavered, and Cloud shut his eyes against that lustful gaze, put three fingers in his mouth and coated them with saliva. He reached down, between his legs, had to lift his butt up a little before he could touch the puckered entrance. His body was on fire - burning with desire and shame - then Cloud slid a finger in, moving it. It wasn't enough, he couldn't quite hit that spot, so he pushed another two in, raising his ass some more and thrusting, forearm brushing against his straining cock with every move, he still couldn't reach it, he wanted to much to just cum…

He lifted his other hand to fist himself, then his eyes shot open in surprise as both his hands were grabbed and pulled up and over his head. Ray and Ralph were binding his hands to the table - where the hell had they gotten the handcuffs from? - and suddenly a cold object was being slid over his tip of his cock. Cloud looked down, started to struggle when he realized Reno had slipped a cock ring on him, knee coming up to strike at the red head…

Only to be stopped by Jared, who had a grip on Cloud's legs and was holding them down. A hard slap to his face made his eyes water slightly, then another, and another, and someone was clenching his jaw and forcing his mouth open as whisky was poured in. He couldn't turn his head away, could only lie there and wait for the flow to stop, and when it eventually did, he struggled to swallow, opening his eyes to see Jared climbing on top of him, his own engorged member inches from Cloud's face as the blond lowered his head to give the tip of Cloud's cock a little nip, making the smaller blond cry out from the stimulation to his over sensitive penis.

"Suck him off, or you don't get to cum," Cloud wasn't sure whose voice it was, blood rushing to his head making everything seem jumbled and garbled, and he obediently took as much of Jared as he could, head falling back against the table with a dull  _thunk_  as the other blond started to fuck Cloud's mouth hard in this position while nipping and licking at Cloud. Then Cloud was crying out as Jared took him completely in his mouth, sucking hard, and the smaller blond could feel tears leaking from his eyes.

_Please…_

Jared was humping Cloud's mouth now, moaning around Cloud's cock, and dimly Cloud wondered if the table was built to take this much weight and movement. He didn't care right now, all he wanted to do was make Jared cum so that HE could, and he sucked hard as Jared moved his hips in time to the music, nearly cried with relief when the blond didn't last long - no doubt excited as well from before. The ring was removed, and wet heat surrounded his cock - Cloud came, crying out around Jared's member still in his mouth, arching his back at the blessed release as Jared drank every drop.

When he was spent, breathing heavily on the table, chest heaving, two hands suddenly grabbed Jared's hips, lifted him out of Cloud's mouth. Then Jared's ass was being positioned right above Cloud, and a rough voice was telling him to eat it.

Cloud had never done such a thing in his life.

For his hesitation, his cock was slapped, nipples pinched, then someone grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved his face into Jared's ass.

"Eat it, and he'll eat yours."

Cloud opened his mouth, tongue probing, tasting an unfamiliar musky flavor, wrinkling his nose. The fist in his hair tightened painfully and he cried out - Jared's ass was forced harder against his open mouth - and Cloud stuck his tongue out, piercing past the ring of flesh and tasting Jared from within. The taller blond's moans told Cloud he loved the feeling, and Jared started to move his ass against Cloud's face.

Cloud heard a slap, felt his butt being lifted off the table, and suddenly Jared was enthusiastically eating him out and Cloud was moaning into the other boy, reciprocating with his tongue, mouth moving and slurping in tandem with the other boy's ministrations.

He could feel his cock hardening again, never wanted this feeling to end while wishing something harder, bigger was inside him.

A low appreciative whistle.

"What a view, boys."

"Amen, brother."

"Halle-fucking-lujah."

Those guys sounded entirely too proud of themselves.

Cloud told himself he'd get them back - later - his release was approaching, and he was such a slut for cumming just from having his ass eaten...

Jared's mouth suddenly left him and Cloud mewled against the taller blond at the loss - he was so close! - then he cried out and tried to struggle as he felt the cock ring being slid back onto him.

"No! Please!" His pleas were muffled, and Jared was lifted off him.

"What was that?" Ray's eyes were dark with desire, narrowed dangerously at Cloud.

"P…please..." Cloud wanted to slap himself at how needy he sounded, how pathetic, but right now his body just needed to fucking cum, dammit!

Ray shoved Jared's ass back down onto Cloud's face, the taller blond grinding against the Nibelheim cadet and Cloud instinctively licking.

He cried out again as Jared started to suck him off, suckling the tip, licking along the length like a kid with an ice cream cone.

This time when Ray lifted Jared off him, the blond whining at the loss of stimulation, Cloud knew what to say.

"Please, sir." He pleaded with Ray, who simply looked at someone - Cloud assumed it was the other boys - and raised an eyebrow.

"Not yet."  _Reno, you BASTARD._

Ray smirked down at Cloud. Then he bent Jared over, the taller blond's cock brushing against Cloud's lips, and Cloud took Jared into his mouth with a pleading whine. From this position, he had a ringside view of a thick, hard length brushing against Jared's ass, then Ray was slamming into Jared, who cried out in pleasure and moved against the thrusts in tandem, like they'd done this a million times before.

They probably have…

Cloud was still sucking the tip of Jared's member, could hear Jared sucking someone else off, wasn't sure how long this was going on for, then Jared was releasing into Cloud's mouth again, and the smaller blond drank it up hoping this would mean it was his turn to get off.

As Jared panted, face pressed against Cloud's stomach, blond hair brushing against Cloud's straining length and making the smaller blond want to cry at the teasing sensation, Ray just smirked down at the pleading eyes of the Nibelheim cadet, before he walked away.

_What…?_

Ray was back, something in his hands that Cloud realized was a blindfold when the brunette tied it around his eyes. He tried to move away, shook his head, then someone else was suddenly there gripping his head and holding it in place as the blindfold was tightened and Cloud was plunged into a world of darkness, sounds, touch, and scent.

He didn't want to beg -  _he had his PRIDE, dammit_  - but he knew it was only a matter of time. Physical pain he could take - could handle whatever the world threw at him. But pleasure? He'd never experienced so much pleasure in his life.

He didn't even want to imagine how it'd feel if the rumors about the General's prowess were true.

Another hard slap, then more whisky being poured down his throat. As soon as he swallowed, a ball was forced between his lips and teeth, and he could hear the clinking as the gag was fastened.

_Oh fuck no - stop liking it, stop liking it, STOP LIKING IT_

His protests were muffled, words inaudible and incoherent.

He felt Jared moving off him, and the sudden shock of cold air made him realize he was bereft of any anchor, lying naked on a table, hands bound, eyes covered, mouth gagged, and cock standing at attention. He turned his head from side to side, rushing blood and racing heartbeat roaring in his head, as he tried to somehow see where the others were, tried to calm himself and call up his superior control of his senses -  _it's OK you're the World Savior you can do this you can do this_  - then a hand caressed his cock, while another pinched his nipple, and another toyed with his butthole.

"Sooo…we were wondering too." Reno sounded far too smug. The red-head's control was superior to Cloud's if he was still so calm despite not having cum once yet. Clearly practice made perfect.

A hand fisted him and he tried to arch up into the contact, but his hips were being held down.

_Oh for God's sake WHAT were you wondering?!_

"We all had a go last night," Ray was going to get his ass kicked in training for sounding so damn full of himself. "But you never quite said…"

_Said WHAT, assholes?!_

"Which one of us was the best." Ralph finished Ray's sentence, and he could just HEAR the smirks in their voices.

_You are all dead men next week._

Cloud was going to run them over in Driver's Ed, and back up for good measure.

"So we're going to have a little 'taste test', Blondie." The hands were continuing to play with him, making him grind against the too-light friction to his cock, wishing he had his Mako enhancements so he could break free and kill them all.

"We'll each fuck you," Ray explained, as though teaching Cloud the rules to a card game. "And cum inside you."

_Oh no…no no no no no…_

"And at the end of it, you need to tell us what the order was," Ralph's voice made Cloud shiver.

"For each wrong answer, we'll be extracting a penalty." Jared sounded far too perky. Cloud couldn't wait to inflict a world of hurt on the other blond. This wasn't a stupid game show.

Then his legs were grabbed, he was yanked closer to the other end of the table, and a hard, thick cock was driving into him, pounding against that spot and making Cloud see stars from behind his blindfold.

_Oh fuck that's too good oh shit this is bad this is bad this is good_

He wasn't sure how long it lasted, the music was turned up to cover the sounds whoever was inside him was making. He would have tried to figure out who it was who was fucking him, but the sensation was too great, with his senses heightened from the blindfold and the cock ring, the stimulation to his spot making him want to cry from the pleasure…

His ass was filled with a thick, warm heat, and he moaned around the ball gag. He couldn't stop the noise he made from the loss when whoever it was pulled out, then a sound escaped him again when a hot, hard rod slammed in and started a brutal pace, making sure to drive into that spot inside Cloud again and again, making the blond scream around the ball gag and arch his back, wishing he could just cum, wanting so badly to just release he'd do anything,  _anything_  right now.

Cloud lost track of time, only aware of the feeling of being filled, his cock straining against its circular restraint, his arms probably scraped raw from struggling against his bonds. This was heaven, this was hell, it was pleasure, it was pain, it was so fucking amazing he could die right now someone just take the fucking ring off…

More wet heat, and dimly he registered himself moaning, crying out when the third person started to fuck him. The music blasting made it hard to hear, but Cloud could hear the sloppy sounds his ass was making in his head, could feel balls slapping against his ass as his hips were gripped and yanked to slam again and again into whoever it was.

By the time the last person started to pound into him, Cloud mind was numb. He couldn't think, nothing existed, no future of loneliness and suffering, no almost tears at watery graves, just this intense pleasure and pain that Cloud never wanted to end.

He felt the spurts, felt the cum leaking from his ass. Somewhere he registered that the music was being turned down, and the ball gag was removed from his mouth.

He swallowed, tongue dry and throat hoarse from screaming into the gag.

"Well?" He couldn't even tell who it was who was speaking. How was he to know who had been who?

A flick to his cock and he arched his back, crying out.

He wet his lips, tried to work his throat. "I…I don't know…" He barely recognised his own voice.

"So anyone will do then?" this voice was dark, dangerous. A slap to his cock this time and Cloud couldn't stop the cry that escaped his lips. It HURT, it was too much, just take the ring off…

Fingers thrust into his ass suddenly, reaching the hilt of a thumb, palm curving as if scooping, before pulling out. Then cum-coated fingers and a palm were plunged as far into his mouth as they could fit, Cloud gagging from the sudden thrust, the semen in his throat. He coughed, tried to shake the hand out but it wouldn't leave, the hand moving his head from left to right and wiping cum off on his tongue before being removed. Cloud sputtered, coughed hard and struggled to take a breath, then his nipples were being pinched and twisted and he was crying out again.

"Answer the question, slut!" A hard slap to his face and Cloud's head was spinning. His cock was twitching, painful in its restraint, this was too much for him…

"I don't know!" He screamed. "I'll do whatever you want so just take the ring off!"

He heard the smug sounds they made at his pleas, wanted to scream when they didn't release him.

"Now, let's see…how should we punish him?" Cloud couldn't even hate Jared right now, his mind focused on only one thing.

"Hmm…I don't know…oh wait, isn't that what he said?" Ralph was entirely too mischievous, but Cloud didn't care.

Reno laughed. "I've got some ideas."

Ray this time: "So do I. Shall we vote?"

_NO! Stop wasting time!_

He mewled, lifted his ass slightly, wishing the damn ring  _would just disappear_. A part of him was aghast at his needy behavior. Where the hell was his pride? His self-control?

 _Fucked out of your mind just now_ , the perverted voice whispered helpfully.

"Beautiful." Reno sounded like he was appreciating a work of art. Cloud wished he'd stop pretending to be fancy and just tell him what he wanted so he could agree and get off.

"Sight for sore eyes." Ralph sounded like he was on a beach holiday checking out bikini-clad women.

Cloud whined - he was turning into such a hussy - ground his ass into the table, felt cum leaking from him and tried to think of anything to keep his mind off the painful pleasure that had built to a piercing peak inside him.

A chuckle, then Ray was saying: "Shall we?"

_Yes!_

"So, here's the deal." Reno sounded so much like his future self right now. "You need to agree with all of our terms, or we won't let you cum."

_I'll do whatever it is right now but I will KILL all of you next week._

Cloud was beginning to understand the emotions that had driven Sephiroth to commit Bloody Murder.

He nodded.

"Can't hear you." It was official: Ray was the Devil.

"...Yes, sir." Was that thin, panting, desperate voice really his?

_You are all dead men walking._

The smirk was clear in Reno's voice as he laid out their conditions. Even in his current state, Cloud balked at some of them -  _over my dead body, Turk!_  - and was stunned into silence by some, but when they toyed with him some more he caved like a house of cards.

He told himself that discretion was the better part of valor, and he was just living to fight another day. Then his mind went blank as the ring was removed and blissful release consumed him.

##

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: 34,266 words - a thank you to everyone who's waited, and to those who waited but messaged me to inform they were removing Almost Karma from their alerts list, wishing me well. Please accept the gratuitous smut in this chapter as proof of my contrition for being MIA. I apologize again for the delay, and am happy to inform that Chapter 8 is 20% done, while Chapter 9's skeleton has been drafted.
> 
> A/N 2: Gang-bang, rough sex, kink...with Cloud being happily mistreated. Just because it fit and was a logical progression. I've gotten some flames from people who don't appreciate that Cloud hooked up with someone other than Sephiroth / Zack / Angeal / Genesis. I've already made clear that this is not going to be a "let's jump straight to the main event" type story - there are plenty of great fics out there along those lines if that's your poison.
> 
> A/N 3: "B-boy" is a term used for male breakers (breakdancers).
> 
> A/N 4: Song list as below —
> 
> -Ralph breaking: Funky Monkee - Shut Your Mouth and Go Back To The Footwork; Kraddy - Android Porn
> 
> -Jared's dance round: Nicki Minaj - Anaconda
> 
> -Cloud sandwiched between Ray and Ralph: Usher - Love in This Club
> 
> -When the boys have their little dance off on the floor, Cloud in the middle: Flo Rida feat Sage The Geminis & Lookas - GDFR
> 
> -Jared and Ralph dance: Akon - Smack That
> 
> -As they're leaving the club: Ne-Yo - Coming With You
> 
> -At the apartment getting it on: 50 Cent - Candy Shop
> 
> -Carnival: Kelis - Milkshake
> 
> -Dancing in the apartment: Soulja Boy - Crank That
> 
> A/N 5: "My insurance doesn't cover PMS" is a line from 10 Things I Hate About You; "Express elevator to hell, going down" is from Aliens; "You'll take what I give you and you'll like it" is a line from Devil Wears Prada, when Andrea is given a poncho by Nigel during her makeover scene. Other movie references abound.
> 
> A/N 6: Not sure if anyone's noticed that I tend to repeat lines among characters (same character or different characters, across timezones or within the same timezone) - whether thoughts or descriptions of actions / emotions. This is done deliberately and will be built up further as the story progresses.
> 
> A/N 7: Yes, Zack gets it on too. With green-eyed, long haired partners (I dropped a hint about this in an earlier chapter).
> 
> A/N 8: "Cloud could resist everything but temptation" is a paraphrased Oscar Wilde quote: 'I can resist anything but temptation'


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost Karma
> 
> By StarSongVII
> 
> Chapter 8
> 
> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, yaoi, and smut. Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read. Enough said.
> 
> A/N 1: Sorry for the delay. Been swamped working two jobs and putting out flames at work. Also partly lost my inspiration as I got hooked on One Piece (I know, late to the party). 
> 
> A/N 2: I noticed a lot of negative comments about the previous chapter. Firstly, thanks for taking the time to let me know - feedback isn't always positive, and constructive criticism is definitely something I appreciate and take into account. Noticed some readers took issue with the fact that there was no safe word, others with the overall BDSM, others with the fact that Cloud was getting it on with someone other than Seph/Zack/Vincent etc etc. Shout out to the anonymous commenter on FFNet who encouraged me to keep on writing what I want, and a big THANK YOU to all the kudos and positive feedback received - your support is invaluable to a struggling writer. This chapter’s only 21,388 words - I try not to post until I hit 30,000 words but felt like I should get it online ASAP before real life delays it further.

 

 

 

 

_Cloud…what are you up to?_

Tifa was watching Reno, who was spending more and more time in Seventh Heaven trying to destroy his liver. Rude was there as well, Tseng not trusting Reno to not go postal with all the effects of Cloud’s time-traveling. Tifa supposed she ought to thank the head of the Turks for not making her babysit the addled red-head solo. 

It seemed all of them - WRO, Neo Shinra, AVALANCHE - had accepted the fact that there would be a lot of mess while Cloud sorted things out. Tifa knew that AVALANCHE and WRO were less concerned with the outcomes than Shinra was. Cloud would take care of them, as always. 

_I hope he ‘takes care’ of Shinra too._

Tifa’s mouth turned down. She wasn’t a horrible person by nature, but she really didn’t like Shinra. The memory of the meeting with the fat president while she’d been in chains had never left. And all the suffering the company had caused with its greed and lust for power…

She really hoped Cloud would find a way to make sure everything would turn out alright.

Instantly she chided herself. Of course Cloud would make everything right. He’d nearly killed himself so many times trying to do just that. Who was she to doubt the man she had loved?

_…had loved?_

That was in past tense. Tifa’s hands stilled from where they were wiping a highball glass dry. 

What was happening? Was Cloud dead? When? How? Where? Why? 

A clatter, and Reno was pushing his empty glass towards her, wordlessly demanding a refill. She really shouldn’t encourage this, it wasn’t good for his health…but she knew he needed the sweet oblivion of alcohol. And that his own genetic enhancements meant he was immune to disease, just like Cloud.

Sighing slightly, she turned and mixed up another drink. Not as strong as the ones she usually made for Cloud, but almost. The sooner Reno passed out, the better. Seeing him like this made her…

_…made her what?_

Tifa’s hands stilled again from where they were emptying whisky into a glass. 

“Tifa?”

Rude’s voice shook her from her confusion. The bald man was looking at her, and she was sure his eyes, shaded as they were, would reflect the concern she’d heard in his voice.

She looked down, saw that the glass was overflowing and cursed lightly under her breath. Hastily, she set the bottle down and mopped up the spill, before passing Reno the full glass.

He downed half of it in a single gulp. Inwardly she winced. She’d never been a heavy drinker, despite or possibly because she owned and operated a bar. So to see someone she cared about so casually consume so much liquor…

_…'someone she cared about'?_

What the hell was going on? 

She was saved from her own internal turmoil by the jingling of the bells that Cloud had installed above Seventh Heaven’s doors. He liked the sound, he’d told her. She wondered if it was because the tinkling was chirpy, or because he liked knowing whenever someone entered the bar. 

She looked up, welcome greeting on her lips when she stilled. 

A tall brunette had entered, dressed in an expensive suit and shades. There was something about his air and the way he walked that reminded her of someone. She couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he seemed…familiar. 

“Reno?”

A voice smooth as sin, as the brunette removed his shades to stare incredulously at the red-head, who had turned around at the sound of his name. 

“…Johnson? What the fuck are you doing here?” Tifa was surprised at how happy Reno sounded to see this Johnson person. She looked at the newcomer again, barely registered that a huge hulking dark-skinned man dressed in similar attire had entered the bar silently behind him. It was Johnson’s eyes that captured her attention.

They were a glowing silver.

_SOLDIER?_

The brunette’s striking face had broken into a brilliant grin as long, lean legs strode across Seventh Heaven, embracing the red-headed Turk who’d moved to meet him midway. Tifa suddenly recalled where she’d seen that handsome visage before.

Ray Johnson was only the most eligible bachelor in the world, his clean-cut good looks and bad boy vibe making women swoon from Mideel to the Northern Crater, his enormous wealth and whispers of underworld activities causing excited flutters everywhere he went. On the surface, and in official profiles, he was the only son of Vito Johnson - shipping and alcohol magnate, though there were whispers that the Johnson family controlled the entire sin industry (including Gold Saucer) and all black markets. As the position of head of the family business was not strictly hereditary, Ray had been sent to join SOLDIER as a teenager - some said it was so that he would become strong enough to lead the Family, others that it was because the Family wanted another inside man on the greatest fighting force the world had ever known. After the wars, and with Vito’s declining health, Ray left SOLDIER to take the reins of the Family - and there were rumors about brutal succession battles, assassinations, bodies sleeping with the fishes. No claims of any criminal activity had been lodged officially though, and Ray had since grown his family’s empire to encompass utilities (including power generation utilizing the very oil Barrett discovered - after all, Ray had been Barrett’s initial investor and backer), and agri-business, making him the wealthiest man in the world, and his companies indispensable to every day life. His charitable foundations were responsible for almost as much disaster relief and socio-economic improvement as WRO, and as a result he’d been featured on more magazines than Tifa could count, but still remained third in popularity to…

_…to whom?_

Tifa was pulled back to the present when Reno enthusiastically greeted the burly bouncer-looking man who’d entered the bar with Ray Johnson. 

“Jackson! How you been, big man?”

It was slightly comical watching Reno attempt to hug the giant when the top of his red head just barely reached the dark-skinned man’s collarbones, and as Tifa watched Reno was yanked off his feet as said giant wrapped the smaller man in a bone-crushing hug. Reno’s long-suffering yet affectionate  _oof_  indicated he was used to this.  

“I’m good, brother, I’m good.” A deep rumbling voice, and the giant set Reno down, removing his shades at the same time to reveal…

Glowing amber eyes. 

_Another SOLDIER?_

Then Tifa’s breath caught in her throat, there was a ringing in her ears, and it felt like the floor had gone out from under her.

Ray Johnson, the giant Jackson, and Reno were all sporting ear-rings just like Cloud’s.

_What..._

She glanced at Rude. Knew he had noticed it too by the way he’d jerked back suddenly, tan skin turning pale. She hadn’t paid attention earlier, but she was certain Reno’s one ear-ring hadn’t been the same as Cloud’s. 

Hang on…

_Since when did Reno have TWO ear-rings?!_

Ray had settled into a seat at a table, and Reno sat across from him. The bald burly man, Jackson, came up to the bar, blocking Tifa’s view of the Turk and his ridiculously handsome companion.

“A bottle of your best whisky, ma’am,” the giant rumbled.

_…’ma’am’? Do I look that old?_

_It’s a SOLDIER way of showing respect, Teef._ An image of Cloud laughing at her as he sat among a group of others. It was on a beach somewhere, the scent and sound of a crackling barbecue filling the air...

_WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???_

Tifa nodded and turned, moving mindlessly out of years of habit, reaching up to the top-shelf and bringing a bottle down. All the while the thoughts and questions raged in her head. _Why had Cloud said that? WHEN had Cloud said that? They’d never had a barbecue on a beach before, so where had that been? Who were the other people around him? Since when did Cloud look so happy and carefree?_

She placed the bottle on the counter, still moving through the motions on auto-pilot, grabbed three glasses and placed them next to the whisky. Before she could ask if the giant wanted some ice, he’d picked up the bottle and glasses - which now looked comically childish in his large paw - and headed back to the table where Reno and Ray were chatting away. 

“…doing here?” Reno was leaning back indolently, smoking a cigar Tifa assumed Ray had given him.

 

“What else, man?” Ray asked, face exasperated but smiling, tone long-suffering but affectionate. “Heard Cloudy would be here and haven’t seen him in ages. Where the fuck’s our chocobo been?”

 

_…‘Cloudy'? ‘OUR chocobo'? Since when did anyone call Cloud that?_

 

Reno laughed, accepted the drink Jackson handed him, and the three of them clinked their glasses. “Team Fenrir for life,” they chorused, and collectively downed their drinks.

 

Team Fenrir? Wasn’t Fenrir the name of Cloud’s bike? Why were so many people worshipping that Beast On Wheels?

 

As the giant refilled their glasses silently, Reno leaned forward, rested his forearms on the table, and smirked at the brunette. “Trouble with the law and need a ‘get out of jail free’ card, Johnson?”

 

Ray mock-glared at Reno as he accepted the drink from Jackson, clinked his glass against Reno’s and the giant’s and took a sip. “I’m a respectable businessman, _Turk_.” He grinned to show he didn’t mean it as an insult. “And as I recall, **I** was the one to get all our asses out of the slammer that time, hood rat.” 

 

Reno chuckled almost fondly at that memory. Tifa stared in shock - Reno was never fond about anything. Except maybe his Nightstick. 

 

_That sounded wrong._

 

She glanced at Rude out of the corner of her eye, saw the bald Turk watching the trio, slack-jawed despite his training. She was glad she wasn’t the only one who was absolutely clueless.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re never gonna forget that shit, are you?” he grinned and clinked his glass against the brunette’s while the giant continued to down glass after glass silently. At this rate she’d need to crack open a crate.

 

_SOLDIERs._

 

_It’s just what we do, Teef._ Another vision of a laughing Cloud, the brightly shining sun seeming to compete with his hair for position of most brilliant shade of gold, that familiar ear-ring glinting in the sunlight. This time the blond was holding a bottle and taking a swig as an arm wrapped around his waist from behind. 

 

Tifa started. What was that? Who had that been? That arm had been masculine, but with the sunlight she hadn’t been able to determine anything else - whether it was pale or tanned, who it belonged to...

 

“Seriously though, can’t believe your old man gave you a fucking _diamond_   _watch_ for that,” Reno was saying. “You still wearing that overpriced piece of shit?” 

 

Ray pretended to look offended, setting his empty glass down and pulling the sleeves of his sleek suit and crisp shirt back slightly to reveal a very expensive looking watch that glinted and shone in the sunlight streaming in from the windows. Tifa didn’t even know what brand it was, didn’t want to know. But it looked like the watch alone was enough to buy all of Edge and have change left over for Kalm. 

 

Reno whistled, shook his head. “One of these days, man, one of these days.”

 

Ray laughed, clinked his now full glass against Reno’s and took a gulp without waiting for anyone. “Hell yeah he gave me a watch. Being in the can boosts street cred.” He smirked at Reno, who just rolled his eyes and said “yeah whatever, Godfather.” They both grinned at that title, clinked their glasses and drank some more. 

 

The big guy refilled them, then signalled Tifa for another bottle. 

 

“Being a boss suits you, though,” Reno was saying to Johnson, who had leaned back and loosened his tie slightly. As Tifa walked over with the new bottle, she couldn’t deny that the brunette was ridiculously good-looking - the closer she got, the more her heart seemed to beat a little faster.

 

_What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not some innocent school girl!_

 

She handed the fresh bottle to the giant, accepted the empty one he passed her, forgot how to breathe when Johnson’s eyes flicked towards her. An easy, appreciative smile curved his lips, revealing even white teeth made all the more brilliant by how tanned his face was. 

 

“You and I both know we only have one boss.” Ray’s eyes left her and he turned back to Reno, and there was something reverent and affectionate about his tone when he’d said that last word. Tifa could breathe again, and she moved back towards the bar like a newborn colt. Rude was looking at her and she assumed it was worriedly. Why couldn’t he just remove his shades indoors like the rest of them? 

 

_Turks_ , _Cloud grinned. They aren’t as well-mannered as us SOLDIER boys._

 

Another vision, and she stilled mid-step but recovered quickly and continued moving. She needed a drink. 

 

“…Fontaine?” She came back to the present and caught the last of Reno’s question. 

 

Ray shrugged and rolled his eyes. “You know how that slut is,” he grinned affectionately to show the insult was more a term of endearment. “Still wandering all over the world, kicking ass and taking names, sleeping with anyone who catches his eye, trying to get good enough to beat Cloudy.” 

 

Reno and Jackson snorted. It was the first reaction Tifa had seen from the burly 7’6” man. Seemed they both knew this Fontaine person and didn’t think he’d ever best Cloud.

 

Chuckling and shaking his head, Reno took another gulp. “That idiot’s still harassing Vikers about building him a beast like Strife’s?” 

 

Ray nodded, taking another gulp and handing his empty glass to the giant for a refill. “Ralph’s told Jared a million times that there can only be one Fenrir, coz those materials were all used up for Cloudy’s bike. But you know how Jared is.”

 

Reno nodded, raised his eyebrows. “So he’s trying to sleep his way into getting Fenrir.” 

 

Ray and Jackson laughed while Reno grinned. 

 

Tifa emptied her glass of vodka. It burned going down, and she felt tears sting her eyes. But she needed it - if she didn’t understand what was happening sober, then maybe the world would make sense if she got drunk.

 

A dull clunk, and it seemed the trio had emptied the last of another bottle into their glasses.

 

“Alright, we gotta go,” Ray said, clinking his glass against Reno’s and the giant’s. “Was in the area so thought I’d stop by, since Cloudy likes this joint.” His gaze flicked to Tifa, and the look in those silver eyes made her heart act like a chocobo on a trampoline again. 

 

_Stop it! Behave! Have some class!_

 

Reno had finished his drink, pushed his chair back and stood. “Yeah, he drops by sometimes.” He hugged Ray, who’d also finished his drink and risen to his feet. The giant was moving silently (how on earth was someone so huge so silent?!) towards the bar, hand reaching into a coat pocket. Out of the corner of her eye, Tifa saw Rude tense. The giant’s eyes didn’t leave Tifa’s, but somehow she knew he had noticed Rude’s reaction, had decided the Turk was never going to be a threat. 

 

Which was a fair enough assessment, given how massive Jackson was. Tifa doubted even her strongest punch would shake him. She wondered how he had fit through the doorway.

 

He placed a stack of bills on the counter (Tifa didn’t need to look to know it was more than what she could make in a month - though how she knew that she wasn’t sure) and nodded to Tifa, turning and putting on his shades as he walked over and held the door open for Johnson. On the street outside, Tifa could see several sleek black cars, more men in expensive suits and shades standing at attention, a crowd gathering - whispering and pointing, women giggling and looking coy.

 

“…spend time in Junon?” Ray was asking Reno. “Some new girls I want you to meet.” A grin and a wink, and Tifa felt her heart flutter. She was glad no one was looking at her. The way she was behaving would have Cloud in hysterics.

 

_…Cloud in hysterics? Since when did Cloud laugh so easily?_

 

Reno had an arm around the brunette’s shoulders, leaning easily against him as though he’d done it a million times before. “Soon, man, soon,” the red-head was saying. “Got some business to clear up here but I’ll finish up quick if you promise to let me play with that new boat of yours.” A grin and a wink. Tifa was surprised to find that these two had similar mannerisms, like they’d spent so much time together they moved and acted and spoke in sync. 

 

Ray laughed, arm going around Reno’s waist and hand patting him on the ribs like only an old friend would. “Anything for a member of the crew.” He hugged Reno again, stepped out of the semi-embrace and slipped his shades back on. 

 

The three of them fist-bumped there in the entrance to Seventh Heaven. “Team Fenrir for life.”

 

Then the door was shut and Reno was back at the bar smoking his cigar, looking more happy than Tifa had ever seen him. 

 

Rude broke the silence first. “How the hell do you know Ray Johnson so damn well?” 

 

Reno glanced at him in surprise. Looked up at Tifa who was also staring at him weirdly. His brow furrowed and he turned to Rude suspiciously.

 

“What the hell, man?” the red-head said. “You guys know each other too.”

 

The lines between Rude’s brows deepened. But Tifa had to give the Turk credit - his voice was as monotonous as ever when he said: “I forgot.”

 

Reno was staring at Rude incredulously, before he turned to Tifa: “Can you believe this idiot? C’mon Tifa you explain it to him. I don’t have time for this shit.”

 

Tifa just stared at Reno, was proud of herself for how steady her voice was and how carefully blank her features were. “You do it.” Rude had told her before that when handling a time-travel-confused Reno, it was best to keep expressions as neutral and calming as possible. Didn’t want him flying off the handle. 

 

Reno turned back to Rude looking mildly irritated. He huffed exasperatedly but still said: “We were cadets together - us and Cloud, Jared, Ralph, Grant - the big guy?” he paused, continued with a frown when Rude showed no expression of recognition, “...and Brian and a couple other guys. Then some of them went off and joined SOLDIER while I joined the Turks. But we still worked together on a lot of missions.” He paused slightly as though waiting for Rude to show some semblance of recollection. “Team Fenrir? Ring any bells?” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully at Rude. 

 

Rude just stared back impassively. “No.”

 

Reno was incredulous. And irritated. “The fuck? What’s up with you, man? What the fuck you playing at?”

 

Rude turned to Tifa. She didn’t need him to take his shades off for her to know that he was worried. The effects of Cloud’s time-travel were spilling over more and more. And they weren’t sure how to explain it to Reno. How did you explain to someone that the world he believed in wasn't the world everyone else was living in?

 

She filled another glass to the brim with whisky, passed it to Reno and watched him knock it back. As he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, she stealthily slipped a sleeping pill into an empty glass before filling it with whisky, her arm blocking the view of the pill dissolving in the golden brown liquid. She'd taken to carrying these extra strong sleeping pills around since Cloud's trip back in time, never knowing when she'd need to knock anyone out on the sly. If there was one thing she'd learned from being around Cloud, it was to be prepared for anything. 

 

It helped that in her bar, behind the bar, she was The Boss. No one would ever question the drinks she poured. Apparently her reputation preceded her. She blamed Barret and Cid for everyone knowing about her temper. 

 

When Reno was done with his drink, she passed him the drugged one. Watched as he downed it, blinked several times, the glass clattering and cigar out of his weakening grip as he tried to lift his head to look at her accusingly. Rude caught him before he hit the floor. 

 

_Cloud…what are you up to?_

 

For all that everything they knew was changing though, Tifa was thankful for one thing:

 

_I’m glad this time you’re happy._

 

##

 

_Three more months._

 

Cloud stared at the date, which stared right back. 

 

Three more months to SOLDIER qualifications. Three more months to decide if Cloud could really change things. 

 

The fact that a month had passed since his Blast to the Past, and the fact that he was having…well...a blast here, made him feel…what?

Pressured, of course, that the deadline was fast approaching. That he wasn’t really noticing time passing him by because he’d been enjoying himself so much. Surprised that he had friends, was living a life so different from everything he’d ever known, and that he was actually confident of passing SOLDIER qualifications this time around.

 

_Don’t get cocky, now._

 

Cloud took a deep breath, focused on completing the rest of his notes. It had just been habit to write the date on the top of every page whenever he took notes in class - but something had made him stop and stare at what he’d written this time. 

 

If he failed…if he didn’t make it to SOLDIER this time, despite everything…

 

It’d mean he was officially a pathetic loser, who couldn’t do anything right. And it’d mean Zack and Aeris would die, and he’d have to kill the man he loved. Twice.

 

The pain at those thoughts stilled his hand, and he paused mid-scribble. 

 

No, he wasn’t going to allow himself to even consider that as a possible future right now. Not when Aeris had given him a second chance, not when everyone in the future was counting on him to pull through, not when his sanity and self-respect hinged on him succeeding right here and now. He had three months to the exams, seven months to Nibelheim. He could change things. He WOULD change things. He would create a better future for all of them. And he would NOT lose his sanity, his love or his friends in the process. 

 

_No pressure, dude._

 

_Pressure? I eat pressure for breakfast._

The voices were at it again. 

 

He shook his head, pulled himself back to Battle Comms and Corporal Maran’s droning. It was boring as hell, but with only three months to go Cloud had to make sure to bring his A-Game. 

 

It helped that he had a new A-Team with him to back him up.

 

Beside him, Reno was talking to Ralph about tomorrow’s Drivers Ed, which was replacing their regular Ceremony Training. Cloud couldn’t deny he was glad they wouldn’t have to sit through any more of the 90 minute classes on military dress, appearance, customs and courtesies anymore. 

 

No one really cared about dressing, when undressing was so much more fun.

 

_Pervert._

 

Cloud was definitely still feeling the after effects of the Wet & Wild Weekend. He grit his teeth, struggled not to blush as memories rose unbidden of how insatiable the boys had been.

 

It hadn’t helped that Ray’s little Bag of Tricks was bottomless, the brunette pulling out prop after prop like a dirty Mary Poppins.

 

Explained why he’d kept pouring whisky down Cloud’s throat. Spoonful of sugar and all that jazz. 

 

Cloud was _not_ going to think about how much ‘medicine'he’d swallowed. 

 

_Yup, that was your weekly dose of Vitamin C done._

 

If Cloud didn’t calm down soon, he wouldn’t be able to ride anything in Driver’s Ed.

 

As it was right now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to ride anything for days. Despite the warm cloth and the potions (and frequent subtle massages) he was still sore. He’d mistakenly assumed he’d be given Sunday to rest and recover, but the Perverted Posse had had other ideas, and as soon as Cloud was awake and showered - innocently reaching for his coffee and whisky - he’d been bent over the table (the same table atop which he’d become the Main Course the night before), pants yanked down and Jared having his breakfast at the shorter blond’s behind. 

 

Cloud was still mortified at how he was such a slave to pleasure, he’d ejaculated just from Jared’s tongue in him. He blamed it on the increased sensitivity after Two Wild Nights, twenty-four hours of midnight. Then each of the boys had had a go, filling Cloud up and stuffing a plug in him when they were done, with orders that he was not to remove it on his own. Walking around under the Plate, having lunch, returning to the barracks for dinner…Cloud credited his well-honed will power for allowing him to make it through despite the uncomfortable, full feeling inside him and the fact that the damn plug _vibrated_. Ray, Reno, Ralph and Jared had played the remote like they were button-mashing some video game controller, causing Cloud’s legs to very nearly give out multiple times from the sensation. He’d been near passing out by the time they’d reached the barracks and been subjected to Brian’s very judgemental, very disapproving look - but Cloud had still noticed the slight hurt in the Kalm boy’s eyes, realized the light-brown haired boy had felt left out. He would have said something, but whoever had been holding the remote had chosen that opportune moment to flip the switch, and Cloud’s eyes had shot wide open, sweat beading on his forehead and breath coming in pants. Reno had acted dumb, asking if he was alright, and Cloud had retaliated by saying he was feeling rather warm and needed a shower. 

 

THAT had gotten all four sex maniacs to instantly decide to accompany him to the ‘infirmary’. Bastards hadn’t trusted him not to remove the plug on his own. Cloud wasn’t sure if he should feel insulted at the lack of faith.

 

The sweet torment had finally ended then, though it had left Cloud with less than twelve hours to recover before his personal PT. 

 

Thinking back to this morning, and how the others had joined him in his personal training, Cloud wasn’t sure what to feel. It had been one of their conditions, and Ralph reminded him he'd agreed this morning (which hadn't helped Cloud focus, given he'd agreed in the throes of pleasure): No one left behind. If Cloud was going to work as hard as he was, and push himself as hard as he was, then they would all do it together. 

 

"Crazy bastards from Bunker 7 reporting for duty, Boss!" Jared had chirped at 0500 hours on the track. 

 

And not once had they complained or passed any comments. Cloud wondered how Ray had gotten everyone up and ready so early - especially Reno, who tended to attack anyone who messed with his beauty sleep - but he supposed the others had been forewarned. 

 

It was very like Ray to organize everyone without Cloud noticing, allowing the blond to focus on other things. Such as himself. 

 

_Oh for fuck's sake._

 

It was true though. Even though Cloud was far less self-absorbed than before, the fact remained that he was still notoriously...' _Cloudy_ '. 

 

He supposed he should be grateful. His worries about the others no longer respecting him post-gangbang were unfounded. Outside of Dirty Deeds, he was treated almost affectionately and respectfully by the others (even when they were teasing him for being so damn obtuse at times), though Reno did a good job of masking his concern under the red-head's typical 'devil may care' persona. But Cloud knew. And it was that knowledge, that certainty that the others always had his back, that had emboldened him and allowed him the confidence and faith to allow the others to treat him as they had. 

 

_Who do you think you're kidding?_

_Shut up._

_No. You're telling me you actually trust these guys not to betray you? Not to just treat you as their little fuck toy and cast you aside when someone better comes along?_

_I trust AVALANCHE with my life._

_Yeah, that's coz those misfits actually saved your ass time and time again. These guys haven't proven themselves. You can't trust them. You can't trust anyone. No one really cares for you as much as you think they do. First chance they get they'll throw you under the bus and sell you out, coz they're spineless, back-stabbing, hypocritical..._

 

_FUCK OFF._

 

Cloud was surprised at the forcefulness with which he responded. Almost as though the voice's insinuations had angered him - like he hadn't appreciated the slights against his friends. And they WERE his friends - caring for him, pre-empting his needs, accepting his odd quirks and celebrating what made Cloud Cloud. They reminded him so much of AVALANCHE, except with AVALANCHE they'd had the threat of world destruction hanging over their heads. And after that, with everyone trying to move on, to be normal and happy, to rebuild their lives, Cloud had buried the darkness deep inside so they wouldn't have to see it, wouldn't have to suffer his own private hell. Even with Vincent - for all their similarities, for all that the former Turk saw himself a monster, carried Chaos within himself, gave Cloud the comfort of privacy and physical relief he sought - he was still just a man, a friend, and Cloud didn't ever want to feed the beast within his scarlet-eyed companion, refused to drag him down to the depths of madness and insanity. 

 

He didn't want to let anyone know the reason - the _real_ reason - he allowed himself to be treated like a whore, like a mindless receptacle for abuse. He'd always known something was broken inside him, had been broken since he'd held his mother's warm corpse as his home burned around him, lit by the flames of madness and suffering too long ignored that the floodgates of all that pain had burst open and the tide of torment consumed everything in its path. Zack had pulled a broken toy from the lab, and when he had died for this mindless puppet, the chasm in Cloud's soul had widened and engulfed everything, leaving only shattered pieces behind in an almost-human, an almost-person who sought punishment and forgiveness with every fibre of his being. He deserved it - deserved every cruel word and harsh strike, deserved to be treated like the used and broken parody of a person he was. Maybe if he was beaten enough, if he was brutalized and fucked enough, it would make the emptiness go away. Or maybe it wouldn't - just filling the hole inside him temporarily, and when the bodily fluids had been washed away the dark void inside would remain. 

 

He wanted absolution, craved it for all his sins with a thirst unquenched. He wanted to make things right, to fix the world because then maybe he'd fix himself and let himself believe in things like love and tenderness and joy. 

 

He wanted _him_. 

 

_You'll NEVER have him. You don't deserve him. You don't deserve anything good or pure in this world because all you do is ruin things. You're pathetic, useless, worthless. Your lot in life is to just bend over with your face in the mud while Life fucks you again and again like the little bitch you are._

 

Cloud grit his teeth against the onslaught, tried to fight off the familiar vice around his soul that gripped his heart in a cold claw of condemnation. He wasn't going to drown in despair again. Not now, not here. He had a second chance - he could make things right, could make everything right. Aeris and Zack didn't have to die, HE didn't have to die. Cloud would fix it all, he would...

 

_Who're you kidding? Once a loser, always a loser._

 

A familiar weight on his shoulders forcefully anchored him in the present. Startled, he blinked several times, dimly aware that Ray had moved quickly enough to keep Cloud from stabbing Reno's eye out with his cheap ballpoint pen, registered the fact that Reno had reacted in time but had purposely kept himself relaxed and unthreatening even as the red-head jerked backwards. 

 

Then he was aware of complete and utter silence. He looked around, flushing when he realized the eyes of their instructor and every cadet in Bunker 7 were fixed on him. 

 

Ralph broke the silence, bless him. The black haired cadet gave a low whistle and a chuckle, grinning and quipping that Reno should approach with flowers in future. Jared laughed, insisting that diamonds were a blond's best friend. Then the awkwardness was broken and everyone was packing their things and chatting like they hadn't just seen Cloud almost murder Reno. 

 

Reno was just smirking at Cloud. "Why you trippin', boo?" The others were laughing, Brian asking Jared if Cloud was alright. 

 

Still red faced but calming, Cloud moved back and dropped his pen on the table, haltingly putting his things away and ignoring the others as he usually did. As always, they had anticipated it - chattering and teasing each other and not holding Cloud's behavior against him. 

 

Apart from saving the world, he didn't know how to tell them that he was grateful. 

 

##

 

Reno winced as he walked towards Battle Tactics. He was _sore_.

 

_Stupid chocobo and his stupid private training and stupid speed. Stupid Vikers and Johnson and Fontaine for deciding we all needed to kumbaya on the track like stupid Teletubbies._

 

It wasn't just them, of course. Reno himself had considered joining Cloud before, but if it'd been just him it would've been a bit too revealing - a bit too personal, a bit too much. 

 

He wondered how Cloud had recovered enough from the weekend to run like that man with the chocolate-obsessed mother. 

 

_Run, Forrest, run._

 

He chuckled a little to himself, didn't miss the looks the others gave him. Cloud's glance was quizzical but not worried, the smaller cadet curious but not concerned. 

 

Reno just smirked at him, didn't miss how the blond rolled his eyes slightly as he turned back to the front.

 

For all that Cloud tried to control his emotions, a lot still slipped through. Reno knew there were deep currents under that surface of unflappable calm, that the other boy was as emotional as they came but just horrible at dealing with it, squirrelling everything away in the hopes that if he ignored it enough it would magically disappear or resolve itself. 

 

But that wasn't how feelings worked. Bottle it up too long and one day the floodgates would burst open. And who knew how terrible the tide would be. 

 

That had been why they'd wanted him to let loose over the weekend. Relax his guard and not be afraid of what he wanted to do, not be afraid of having fun. 

 

It had worked a little. Cloud had been more relaxed and happy than Reno had ever seen him, sitting contentedly in the dirt laughing at their antics. 

 

He didn't know why he cared so much for the other boy. He'd better not be catching any feelings. Turks didn't do that mushy shit, no sir.

 

He chuckled again when he imagined the Turks he'd seen sitting around a campfire in pink fluffy sweaters having a heart-to-heart. This time Cloud ignored him, didn't even turn around to check, probably chalking Reno's levity in their current situation up to some sort of natural insanity.

 

_Least I'm not the whack job with more issues than a slum whore has STDs._

 

He almost stuck his tongue out at Cloud, but was glad he had enough self control not to. Might give Jared ideas. 

 

Speaking of the blond...

 

He glanced at Jared out of the corner of his eye, the resident nympho trying and failing to get into Brian's pants as usual. Inwardly Reno was amused. Brian was such a prude, hell would freeze over before the Kalm kid had sex with Jared.

 

_Once upon a time, you'd have said the same about Cloud._

 

It was true. The Nibelheim kid who had entered training had had such a stick up his ass about everything, Reno was still unable to reconcile that brat with the tough, self-assured blond walking in front of him. 

 

_Well this Cloud's had MANY sticks up his ass recently._

 

Reno wasn't going to get a boner now, not when they were filing into Battle Tactics and he was going to be sitting between his fuck buddies. 

 

They were too smart for their own good. After all, they had all sensed that Cloud wanted their abuse - sought a kind of absolution for which there was none but the temporary bliss of pain and pleasure. They'd understood that fucking the smaller cadet's brains out, treating him like a whore, had simply been a way of keeping the demons at bay just a little longer, silencing dark voices with screams for a short while. 

 

They weren’t just the best-looking cadets to ever come through the program. Each of them was a little warped, a little different from everyone else. Maybe they really were suited to be SOLDIERs - brutal one minute, kind and upstanding the next. The kind that would fracture the ribs of a cadet then rush him to the infirmary. All twisted creatures seeking an outlet for the darkness inside, a means of letting loose away from judging eyes, somewhere to let the pressure of negativity out so they could keep the veneer of positivity firm. Reno didn't doubt that the SOLDIERs, especially First Class, carried scars deeper than any medical tool could reach. He'd heard whispers, rumors. And he knew that the battles had become more guerrila, more undercover, recently - you had to fight fire with fire. That was the way of the world. Kill or be killed. Wutai and AVALANCHE were employing sneak attacks, infiltrating and assassinating as needed - SOLDIER would be doomed if they stuck to above the belt fighting. 

 

Reno had sensed something beneath the surface of the SOLDIERs he'd encountered. Had known that beneath the General's cool perfection, something dark lurked. Had known Cloud, _this_ Cloud, had issues no amount of talking could solve - that the only thing anyone could do for him was be by his side and give him the drugs he craved but was too proud to ask for. 

 

How the others - Ray, Ralph, Jared - had known when they weren't slum kids like Reno, was still a mystery. As were Ray's connections in the slums. 

 

_Yeah, what's up with that?_

 

And what was up with Ralph and Jared, who seemed to know more than they let on?

 

Reno was never going to make the Turks if he didn't figure this out soon. Those suits could get their hands on anything - if he was going to join them, he'd need to up his Intelligence game. 

 

Time to show ‘em what he was made of.

 

He zoned out during Battle Tactics, trusting Cloud’s notes more than their instructor and opting to use the time to review everything he had on Cloud and Ray. 

 

He didn’t have much to go on, not having paid much attention to the little blond before his attitude and aptitude 180, and only acknowledging Ray as a classmate and occasional fuck buddy before the brunette had become part of Cloud’s inner circle. 

 

Then there were Ralph and Jared. From what Reno knew, Ralph was a regular kid from Rocket Town - albeit a very good looking one - who had parents and a home, was a typical motor-head, and had never been under the Plate till their first trip there together two weeks ago.

 

Jared was a bit more of an enigma. He was the resident nympho, shamelessly using sex and his physical appeal to get his way, had been a motocross racer previously. But how recently had that been? Had Jared been famous? What about his family, his hometown? No one seemed to know, and no one had thought to ask. Jared had never volunteered any information, always using sexual innuendos and jokes to participate in conversations without giving anything away. Reno supposed he could break in to Cadet Affairs and get his hands on their files, but someone who deliberately kept his past a mystery would likely have lied on the form. Knowing the slinky blond, he’d probably decided that if the time ever came when he was questioned about discrepancies he’d probably sleep his way out of it. 

 

Jared and Ralph could hold their liquor. Were smokers. Seemed to know more about Ray than Reno did. Had their paths crossed before? If so, how? Ray was from Junon - while Ralph was from the town where most mechanical innovations were made, Reno doubted the only son of a wealthy businessman would personally visit the garages of Rocket Town. 

 

And what of Jared? How had his path crossed with Ray’s? Or had Jared and Ralph simply heard some information before that had led them to realise things about Ray that Reno hadn’t yet?

 

As far as Reno knew, Ray’s family was in the shipping and alcohol business - that was why the brunette always had tons of drinks to share. And while the Junon kid’s knowledge of the bootleggers in the slums, their reaction to him, could be written off as a result of Ray’s family possibly trying to stamp out bootlegging of their goods (though it was a bit of a stretch - how could those bootleggers have known who Ray’s family was when the kid hadn’t told them?), it didn’t explain the apartment, the old man bowing to him, the way Reno had noticed some in the slums (even the bouncers at the club) looking at the brunette warily. And Reno had to assume it was Ray they were looking at - Grant wasn’t a threat, not to people who had grown up in the slums, who had a nose for danger and trouble.

 

But Ray gave off no such vibe. He seemed like a normal, well-adjusted kid who’d grown up surrounded by riches but had never let it get to his head. That was all.

 

And Cloud. The little blond was the runt of the litter. Yet now he was the Boss - tough, smart, cool, capable. 

 

_And he’s fucking hot in bed._

 

Reno shoved that thought out of his mind, refusing to get sidetracked. 

 

Cloud had visited someone in the slums whom he’d called a sister to him. That girl, Aeris, she’d been under Turk surveillance for years. 

 

How did Cloud know someone from under the Plate, when the kid was from the boondocks and had never been to Midgar till cadet training? 

 

He hadn’t lied about it being his first time in Midgar - Reno vaguely remembered the hillbilly giving his ignorance of the city away earlier on, back when he’d first joined.

 

Had that Aeris girl come from Nibelheim? 

 

It was possible. She did seem different to the others in the slums, to the people who’d spent their life under the Plate. There was something about her Reno couldn’t put his finger on, but if he was pressed to say it, he’d say she felt…pure. Like there was something almost magical in her blood, her bones - a kind of innocence and love that seemed to radiate from her pores. If Reno had to pick a collar to associate her with, it’d be white. 

 

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps the girl had come from Nibelheim, and Cloud knew her from back then.

 

But then the kid had never mentioned knowing anyone in Midgar, at least not that Reno recalled. Though the blond had said he never wanted to introduce Aeris to them, the Cloud from before would have flaunted anything he could in order to become popular, gain some attention. It didn’t make sense that the kid would have purposely hidden her away when he’d been so desperate to become one of the guys, to fit in. Had Cloud only found out recently? Maybe that was it - maybe that was why Cloud had never mentioned her before. 

 

There were too many maybe’s, too many unknowns, too many questions. Reno lacked the information to tie it all together, but he was smart enough to know that if he didn’t have the information, he’d just need to figure out who had it and how to get it out of them.

 

Direct approaches never suited him. They were too vulnerable, opening yourself up to attack and revealing too much of yourself.

 

No sir, Reno would do his digging on the sly. Ask the right questions of the right people in the slums - people who owed him, people who tended to let things slip when Reno came at them with alcohol and his sneakiness. 

 

That was decided then. He’d figure out a way to ditch the others for a few hours this weekend, and make his rounds. 

 

Feeling slightly better now that he had settled on a course of action, something to do about all the enigmas facing him, he let himself come back to the present. Ray and Ralph were chatting about Driver’s Ed and speculating about what Battle Sims would be like this week. 

 

_Right…it’s been two weeks already._

 

Reno glanced up at the clock to check the date, realizing it was three months to SOLDIER qualifications. And his impending recruitment by the Turks. 

 

That meant he only had three months to prove himself.

 

The clock was showing 5:55pm, which meant class would be ending in five minutes. Already some of the others were starting to pack their things. Cloud was still diligently taking notes and trying to hide his amusement at Jared’s harassment of Brian. 

_Keep trying to hide, Blondie. I’ll figure out your secrets soon enough._

 

As the minute hand inched closer to the top of the clock face, their instructor suddenly cleared his throat. Surprised at this move, the cadets stopped in the middle of preparing for their escape, and even Cloud glanced up from his notebook. 

 

“Cadets Fontaine, Johnson, Reno, Strife, Tranton and Vickers.”

 

The six of them immediately stood at attention. Reno didn’t miss Brian’s worried look, how Ray and Ralph and Jared were glancing at each other in confusion - this couldn’t be about all the gangbanging, since Brian hadn’t known or been involved - and Cloud had his favorite mask of indifference on.          

 

“You are to report to the Hand-to-Hand training hall at 1900 hours tonight.”

 

The confusion had spread to the rest of the class. The hand-to-hand training hall? Did that mean the six of them were being punished for something with extra training? 

 

But for what? Brian was the resident goody-two-shoes. And Reno was too fly to ever get caught for his B&E, or his weapons sales.

 

“Dismissed.”

 

The bell rang right then, and it took everyone a split second to realize that it was time for dinner. 

 

As they packed up and filed towards the mess hall, Brian was the first to crack. 

 

“What do you think they want us in the training hall for? Are we in trouble?” The Kalm kid’s voice was high, tremulous. He was clearly unused to any form of punishment, always toeing the line and doing as he was told. 

 

Cloud was impassive. Ray, Ralph and Jared didn’t answer, looking like they were wracking their heads as well for an explanation.

 

“Everything alright, Boss?” 

 

The low rumbling so near Reno startled him slightly. He wondered how someone as huge as Grant could have come up behind them so silently, blamed it on his preoccupation with the sudden order for them to report to the training hall with no explanation given.

 

Cloud glanced at Grant, the Corel kid’s sudden appearance not fazing him in the slightest. Seemed Cloud was getting a better grip of his reactions, seeing as he wasn’t trying to murder Grant with his textbooks. 

 

Not that the standard issue, clearly reused pieces of trashy literature would do any damage to Grant’s thick head. It was more likely their bindings would finally give way if Cloud ever struck the other cadet with his books.

 

“We’ll find out later.” Cloud’s voice was calm, firm, putting an end to the speculation and whispering going on around them. 

 

_Like a Boss._

 

Then the small blond displayed that thoughtful side of him, turning to Brian. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out together.”

 

Instantly the Kalm kid brightened, Cloud’s words almost gospel assurance that everything would be alright.

 

_Like a fucking Boss._

 

Or maybe it was because Cloud had said “together”, like they were a team. THE team.

 

Reno refused to admit that part of him had calmed down somewhat as well upon hearing Cloud’s words and even tone. If the little blond wasn’t going to get his panties in a twist, then neither would Reno.

_Gotta show ‘em what I’m made of._

 

##

 

While Cloud had projected an air of calm to the others, inside he was a roiling mess of panic.

 

He was in his usual seat, trying to eat and keep the facade up, listening with half an ear to the conversation going on around him as the others clearly decided to pretend they weren’t worried or curious as well. 

 

The sudden order, with no explanation given, had thrown them all for a loop.

 

Cloud had no memories to go on, nothing to back him up. What could the instructors want with them? Why were just the six of them being summoned? 

 

WHO had summoned them?

 

An image of Zack floated in his head.

 

_Could it be…?_

 

No way, absolutely not. Cloud firmly put a stop to the excited fluttering in his heart, the hopeful whispers, the petulant voice complaining that Zack’s attention would be divided among them and therefore not completely focused on Cloud.

 

At 1845, Cloud stood - a signal to the others, who instantly ceased chattering and started to clear their trays. He passed his notebooks to Grant, who nodded - the Corel boy would make sure everyone had a chance to copy the necessary - then he cleared his tray, refilled his water bottle and headed to the training hall with the others in tow. The atmosphere was silent, tense - despite everyone but Brian projecting an air of calm, in their heads they were all confused and a little concerned. It wasn’t normal for cadets to be singled out with no explanation given, and there was nothing to tie the six of them to any trouble - if it was the club night, then there should be more cadets and more bunkers involved. 

 

_Quit freaking out_ , Cloud told himself. _You’re almost there - everything will be clear soon._

 

Except it was hard, not knowing. He didn’t like being in the dark about anything, not after so much had gone over his head and he’d been left picking up the pieces and sifting through shoddy memories and hearsay. 

 

He steeled himself, refused to let the others see how rattled he was, and pushed open the door to the training hall. Blinked, and felt like his heart had both plummeted to his feet and leapt out of his mouth.

 

Zack was standing in the middle of the hall, chatting with Jeffries and Mendez. The First turned around at the sound of the cadets entry, gave that usual easy smile and wave as they saluted him awkwardly, trying and failing to cover up their surprise.

 

They moved closer when Zack gestured to them, and Cloud didn’t miss Jeffries’ proud look. 

 

_What the hell is going on?_

 

Were they…somehow…being singled out for more advanced training?

 

_But if so…why Brian?_

 

Instantly Cloud kicked himself. He was such an asshole. Brian might not have been on par with them, but neither had the previous him - the fifteen year old brat who made failure his life’s mission. And he’d decided to be nicer to the Kalm kid, who’d pushed himself as hard as the rest of them in private PT and during all their classes. 

 

_Get off your high horse, fuck head. You’re the King of Losers._

 

Zack’s voice broke through the negativity, like sunlight on a cloudy day, and Cloud wanted to kiss him. Or hug him. Or cry. 

 

“…really tight bunch, and you’ve all shown potential.” Zack’s eyes flicked towards Cloud for the briefest of seconds. “So we thought it’d be good to put in some one-on-one time with all of you. After all, all you boys do in the morning is use the track before PT with Payne, right?” The First’s eyes twinkled, that familiar teasing glint making Cloud want to throw his arms around his long dead friend and beg forgiveness. 

 

The First was still speaking. “...called in the rest of your bunker, but then that would defeat the purpose of having this extra training - not enough instructors to give you lot personal attention.” 

 

The cadets nodded, Cloud somehow mimicking his friends’ actions through subconscious osmosis, his eyes never straying from Zack’s. He hoped his face wasn’t giving anything away, but was pretty sure that was too much to ask for. He just hoped he hadn’t given TOO much away. 

 

_Control yourself, idiot!_

 

Somehow he managed to muster enough willpower in his exhausted body and jumbled mind to rearrange his features into some semblance of respectful attention. He deserved one of those little golden men for this. 

 

Zack clapped his hands together, looking very pleased with himself. “SO! Fontaine and Tranton - you’re with Mendez.” The two cadets nodded and saluted, moving over to their dark-skinned instructor who led them to one end of the hall. “Vickers and Johnson, with Jeffries.” Ralph and Ray moved to the other end of the hall with their burly instructor. Cloud didn’t miss the slight wince Ralph made as he did so, felt a little sorry for the other boy. Jeffries had no mercy, pushed you harder the more tired you were because he believed in ‘character building’.

 

Then he realized he and Reno would be training with Zack.

 

_Oh FUCK._

 

He wasn’t sure if he should be happy or terrified. 

 

The First was still smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes - those coolly assessing deep blue orbs focused on Cloud. “Guess that means you boys are with me.”

 

Reno saluted, Cloud only a heartbeat slower than the red-head but that alone making him want to kick the other cadet. He hated how calm Reno could be, how quickly the other boy always recovered his composure. 

 

Zack’s gaze didn’t move from his face even as he directed them to face each other, but somehow Cloud knew the First was looking at his arms - the restraints over the weekend had chafed at his skin while he’d struggled, the way the others had manhandled him had left bruises all over. No one in their bunker had said anything, of course, either out of respect for Cloud or because they didn’t want to face the wrath of the other boys. But this morning Jeffries had already given Cloud a very odd look, which had made the blond feel a little uncomfortable and wish he was allowed to wear long-sleeved tees in training. 

 

Cloud wondered why he was covered in proof of hedonism every time he met Zack in hand-to-hand.

 

Dimly he wondered if it was just his imagination, or if Zack was a little tired. The black-haired SOLDIER’s face was a little worn, and though his actions and voice were as energetic as ever they seemed a bit forced this time, like the First was recovering from something.

 

Had Cloud’s long dead friend gone on a difficult mission last week?

 

_OR he could’ve just been shagged out of his mind_ , Cloud’s perverted inner voice apparently believed it was fine to jump in while he was standing next to Zack.

 

Cloud shoved the thought away ruthlessly, distantly aware that he was going through the motions as Zack guided him and Reno through some light exercises. 

 

No matter what happened, to Cloud, Zack would always be someone too perfect and pristine to be debaunched like him.

 

_Who’re you kidding? The man’s a SOLDIER First Class. They aren’t exactly saints._

 

Cloud understood that, knew that Zack had his share of demons, his own darkness, and that the man had his needs and wants as well. It was just that, for Cloud, Zack had always been more spirit and memory than physical and present, more paragon of virtue than red-blooded person. 

 

He’d idolized Zack, put him on a pedestal and worshipped him, tried so hard to be like the picture perfect Zack in his memories because to Cloud only Zack was fit to the be hero who saved the world.

 

A sudden sound startled him back to reality, and he jerked to face Zack, who had clapped his hands loudly to get their attention.

 

_Nope, just yours._

 

That voice sounded suspiciously like Reno’s - all slanted and snide. 

 

Cloud was flushing slightly, kicking himself for zoning out in front of Zack - because he’d prayed so many times to be able to see his friend again and then when he’d been given the opportunity he’d gone off into his own little world, and because Zack was a Brigadier General trying to give him personal training and Cloud was trying to make SOLDIER. 

 

_Stupid stupid STUPID STUPID…_

 

A hand ruffled his hair, and Cloud started, willed himself not to cry when Zack followed with “you OK, Cloud?” because it was too much - too much like when they’d been running from Hojo, too much like when they’d both been young and innocent and heading off on a mission ignorant of what lay before them, too much like everything Cloud had ever wanted to feel again, to have again every time he stood before the Buster Sword on a lonely cliff. 

 

Somehow he managed to respond with a voice that didn’t shake like Yuffie every time she had to board the Highwind. 

 

“Sorry, sir. I’m fine, sir,” Cloud was very proud of himself for using Zack’s title. Wouldn’t do for Reno to get the wrong idea.

 

Zack’s eyes narrowed, and Cloud had a momentary panic attack wondering if the First had seen through him, had figured him out, but no that wasn’t possible maybe he just felt Cloud was lying about being alright…

 

“Didn’t I tell you to call me ‘Zack’, Cloudy?” the First was mock-glaring at Cloud even while he ruffled blond locks more vigorously. 

 

Cloud had never been happier to have his hair mussed or his head shaken like a martini. 

 

“Sorry, Zack,” Cloud wondered why his voice sounded like champagne - all effervescent and cheery.

 

Zack grinned, mussed Cloud’s hair some more, probably just because he could. “Attaboy, Spiky.” Then the warm hand left Cloud’s hair and Zack was turning back to…

_Reno._

_Oh FUCK ME._

 

Reno had a blank expression plastered on his face, as though he’d just watched paint dry, and it was testament to the red-head’s respect for Zack that the trademark smirk was nowhere to be seen, despite the cadet having witnessed upfront how familiar Zack and Cloud appeared to be with each other.

 

Cloud would have to somehow explain to Reno that he hadn’t had any interaction with Zack prior to that time in hand-to-hand two weeks ago. He wondered how he’d be able to convince the red-head, who had already suspected Cloud having Zack’s help, and who had now seen them acting closer than they should be.

 

He willed himself to focus for the rest of the private training, somehow managing not to warble with joy like the chocobo he used to ride when he fed it treats. Zack seemed especially proud of whatever Cloud did well, and although the First made sure to also encourage Reno and compliment his abilities, there seemed to be a special fondness in his tone and face whenever he addressed Cloud.

 

_It’s just wishful thinking, you’re just imagining things as usual._

 

Maybe. It was always possible that Cloud was reading too much into things, applying his own interpretations to others’ actions and desperately trying to convince himself that Zack cared about him. After all, the First wasn’t here because he liked Cloud - he was here because he wanted to find out what was going on with Cloud.

 

_And report it to Sephiroth?_

 

Cloud’s heart leapt up to snuggle in his throat, making it hard to breathe. The thought of the silver-haired man always made him feel…

 

_…feel what?_

_Like a mess, that’s what._

 

He firmly put a stop to the internal debate, reminded himself to be extra careful now that Zack was around as it wouldn’t do for him to give away too much. He had to act like an inexperienced cadet - despite being such a showboat two weeks ago - but that could at least be chalked up to private lessons and street fighting experience. With Zack’s keen eyes so close though, Cloud had to be sure not to give away his battle instincts - his ability to read the situation long before his opponent had even decided on their next move - and his knowledge of everything Zack was currently attempting to teach them.

 

_Wait a second, THAT’s new…_

 

Zack was currently walking him and Reno through a technique to help them increase the agility of their strikes - a technique which, according to Zack, would carry over to weapons as well. Cloud didn’t recall this, and he knew every technique of Zack’s.

 

_Not THIS Zack._

 

Aeris HAD mentioned that a lot of other things had changed because of him. He wasn’t sure how that made him feel, especially confronted with proof of it right now, proof of it coming from Zack.

 

This Zack was different, wasn’t the Zack of Cloud’s memories. 

 

Did that mean this Zack didn’t care about Cloud?

 

For that matter, had the other Zack ever truly cared? Or had he just pitied the pathetic blond?

 

A hand gripping his bicep startled him back to reality, and he lashed out instinctively before realization had him wanting to disappear into a pit of horror and despair. He’d attempted to punch Zack in the face, though the First had caught his much smaller fist in a firm but gentle grip and was looking at Cloud in that cold, curious way this Zack did.

 

Then the familiar Zack was back, grinning and looking like a big brother whose baby sibling had just announced he was dating the Prom Queen. His fist was released, his hair ruffled instead. “Nice instincts, Spiky! You’ll make SOLDIER proud!” 

 

Cloud flushed, his pale skin giving away the effects of so many changes in emotions in such a short span of time. “Thanks Zack.” Then…"Sorry I almost hit you.” That last sentence was delivered shamefacedly and hesitantly, Cloud staring at the ugly blue mat under his feet and cursing his stupid habit of zoning out then attempting to murder anyone who brought him back to reality.

 

No, that wasn’t true. He didn’t react with violence every time, only when he was on edge or in a dark mood. He recalled Ray and the others jabbing him on several occasions to bring him back to the present - he was pretty sure he hadn’t attacked them for it. 

 

A snort, and Cloud peered up through his lashes. Zack looked like he was trying to hold back his laughter. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Cloud’s hair was mussed again. At this rate he’d need to invest in a hairbrush. 

 

##

 

_What a sweetheart._

 

Half an hour later and Zack was still amused at how sorry the little blond had been over attempting to punch him in the face. The reaction had been less “Oh my God I’m going to be court-martialed” and more “Oh my God I nearly hit someone”, which Zack honestly found endearing (because the tiny tater-tot thought he could actually _hurt_ Zack) and a little worrisome.

 

Would the kid be buying SOLDIER’s enemies flowers and “get well soon” cards every time he had to fight them?

 

He was guiding the pair into some cool down moves, itching to just declare it a free for all and start sparring with the both of them but having enough common sense to know that it would be a Very Bad Idea. He was supposed to be their coach and mentor, not some bloodthirsty war monger who got his jollies off punching little cadets in the face.

 

_But three months was a long time._

 

At the rate Cloud was developing, Zack couldn’t wait for the kid to join SOLDIER and get his Mako enhancements. Only then would he feel comfortable sparring with the little blond - although Cloud was very good, even as he was now, the fact remained that he was still on the small side and lacked the physical ability to properly take on a SOLDIER First Class hand-to-hand. Zack didn’t want to demoralize or scar the kid - especially seeing as he was already covered in bruises and his skin was chafed on his forearms.

 

Zack recognized the tell-tale signs of bondage. So the little blond had been tied up over the weekend. Judging by the fact that Reno and the other cadets were still alive and un-maimed, Cloud must have enjoyed himself. 

 

Zack still wanted to kick all their asses. Just because they’d tied up his precious little boy.

 

_What the FUCK?_

 

This obsession with taking care of Cloud was getting ridiculous. 

 

The cadets had gathered in front of him now, Jeffries and Mendez coming to flank him, Reno and the Johnson kid on both sides of Cloud while the rest fell into line as though they’d done it a thousand times before. It was so natural, like breathing, and it made Zack very curious. SOLDIERs knew who stood where because they had a pecking order - a hierarchy of rank and experience that was clearly displayed and communicated. Cadets were all the same level - granted, Cloud and his crew were better than the others - but without clearly defined statuses there was still a very clear order among them that Zack had noticed even while they were sitting in classes and the canteen, or walking around base. 

 

Reno was always on Cloud’s right, Johnson always on the left. Next to Johnson would be Fontaine, followed by Tranton. Vikers was always on Reno’s right. When there wasn’t enough room for them to walk shoulder-to-shoulder in a single line, it was always Reno and Ray who would be closest to Cloud - sometimes abreast, sometimes slightly behind. Like a clear pyramid of authority. When the rest of the bunker was involved, that huge Corel kid was always directly behind Cloud like a human shield, ready to take any hits aimed at his boss’ back. 

 

When Zack had first heard Cloud’s new nickname, he’d been torn between laughing and cheering. So he’d settled for his new favourite option: he called it the Spazzing Seal - clapping floppily, elbows coming together before his palms touched like wet mops slapping each other, and snorting-laughing while bobbing his head up and down. It annoyed Sephiroth to no end, and that was why Zack loved doing it. 

 

He reminded the cadets to report to the hall at the same time tomorrow before dismissing them - they saluted in tandem before turning and filing out. Jeffries and Mendez were still standing at attention on either side of Zack, so he turned to thank them and dismiss them as well. Jeffries really needed to quit the Proud Papa act. Mendez was as surly as ever, though he did have a slightly amused tilt to his lip. The man had clearly not gone easy on Fontaine and Tranton.

 

When he turned to head towards the door, his eyes widened slightly in surprise before he grinned and sauntered over. Cloud had lingered by the doorway, looking at him oddly - it was that mixture of wariness and warmth Zack was beginning to realize the little blond reserved for him - while the other cadets were nowhere to be seen. Likely waiting further down the hallway - God forbid they allow their Boss to walk unaccompanied through the Very Dangerous Barracks full of Very Horny Boys who all wanted a go with the Very Pretty Cadet. 

 

As he neared, he kept his pose casual and relaxed, grinning down at the tiny kid and wondering why he was always wanting to hug the boy. Must be something about his size making him the perfect chocobo plushie.

 

“Wassup kiddo?” He reached out, ruffled blond hair just because he could - and because no matter how much it must annoy Cloud, the kid always looked heartbreakingly overjoyed, like he’d grown up watching every one else having their dads and brothers mussing their hair and wishing he had someone to do that for him. 

 

Cloud was wearing that expression again - the one that seemed to scream sorrow and happiness. Zack really wanted to help the kid sort his issues out. Being bi was fine - being bipolar was not. 

 

“…I was just wondering…” Cloud’s voice was soft, hesitant - yet somehow firm and full of untold emotions. Again Zack wished the kid would just give up his secrets so he could start helping him work out his problems. Then suddenly Zack was pinned under the force of Cloud’s gaze - those baby blues seeming to tell a million stories and yet not say a word. He almost missed the next part of what the blond was saying, then wondered if he’d heard it right. 

 

The little cadet was asking him if he was OK.

 

Zack couldn’t remember the last time anyone had asked him that - being Brigadier General it was usually him doing the asking, everyone always assuming Zack would be fine because he was bouncy like a rubber ball and too damn good to be injured. Sephiroth never asked that question - never asked anyone that question - and most of the time the man was either ignoring Zack or had already assessed Zack’s mental, emotional and physical state and drawn his own (perpetually accurate) observations, negating the need to ask such a trivial question. 

 

He blinked, realized Cloud was still staring at him patiently, eyes watchful and guarded yet soft and a little worried. 

 

The kid was _concerned_ about him.

 

Zack really wanted to glomp him and take him back to his bed. Not to do anything hedonistic with - but just to cuddle the way you would your favorite teddy bear.

 

He grinned, settled for looping his arm around the kid’s shoulders and putting him in a mock choke-hold. “‘Course I am, Spiky! What made you ask that?”

 

Cloud gave him an amused side glance, lips curving up slightly and making the kid so much prettier Zack was tempted to just throw his other arm around the blond and start fending people off with a pink umbrella.

 

“You look kinda worn.” Again those soft words that seemed to scream a million different meanings and emotions. They were walking out of the hall, and Zack could see the blond’s crew further down the hallway, all of them except Tranton nonchalantly leaning against the walls watching Zack and Cloud subtly. The Tranton kid was just outright gaping. No covert operations for that one, ever. 

 

Zack stopped, used his arm around Cloud to hold the kid back. He didn’t feel like handing Cloud over to his friends - not yet - and he was honestly surprised Cloud had noticed he was a little tired from his Wild Weekend (Lara had stayed over) and the Mission from Hell that had preceded it. 

 

Only Sephiroth and Angeal noticed the things Zack always tried to keep hidden.

 

Oddly, the usual pain at the thought of his former mentor seemed dampened somewhat. As though Cloud was a buffer for negativity, had head butted the anguish with his blond spikes, sparkled the darkness away with his ridiculous prettiness. Zack REALLY wanted to just take the little blond home with him.

 

_Oh right!_

 

He ruffled Cloud’s hair again affectionately, liked how it made the kid’s smile a little wider and his eyes a little brighter. 

 

“Had a rough couple of days, that’s all.” Zack didn’t want to worry the kid about his missions, and he definitely didn’t want the kid knowing about his little Tomb Raiding escapade with Lara. No, he wanted to remain perfect in Cloud’s eyes - the way older brothers are always placed on pedestals and worshipped by their younger brothers. It was time to change the subject, get back on his front foot. “Say - you wanna come over to my place for dinner on Wednesday? Maybe bring those five along with you?” 

 

If Cloud’s eyes widened any further they would become the sky. 

 

Zack might not have Sephiroth’s ability to read people, but he was pretty good at understanding emotions. The jumbled mess that flashed across Cloud’s face like a carousel gone out of control would take some time for him to properly figure out though. He’d seen joy, yes - the kid had looked so damn happy at the invitation Zack had almost thought Cloud would burst into song and start dancing. Then there’d been that familiar pain and sorrow - those hadn’t stayed long but Zack was quite certain he’d seen them, along with the usual fear and wariness that always seemed to accompany all their interactions. 

 

It was the last emotion that had Zack wondering - he wasn’t very sure what it’d been, it had only appeared for a split second, but it had been quite out of whack with everything else. Zack would need to figure it out later, in the privacy of his own home. 

 

He wished he’d brought Sephiroth along to help him catalogue the responses he was getting from Cloud. Or at least a GoPro to record all this for analysis later. 

 

Cloud still hadn’t responded. Zack gave him a little shake, tilted his head and made sure to keep his smile on. It wasn’t hard, with the kid looking like a baby chocobo caught in headlights, making Zack want to pinch his cheeks just for fun.

 

Cloud was blinking furiously, throat working as though he was trying to get a handle on his emotions and make sure his voice didn’t break. After a few seconds, the blond nodded once, firmly, the smile on his face like sunshine on a cloudy day.

 

_Geddit, geddit?_

 

Somehow Zack managed not to snicker outright at his own brilliant pun. Wouldn’t do for Cloud to get the wrong idea.

 

“Great!” He ruffled blond hair some more. This was better than any stress ball. “Come over to the senior officer’s blocks at 1830 on Wednesday. Don’t need to bring anything. I’ll take care of the admin stuff.”

 

Cloud was still smiling brilliantly, looking for all the world like a kid who’d gotten what he’d written to Santa for. It was a good look on him, one that Zack wanted to be there permanently.

 

Zack ruffled Cloud’s hair, wished he didn’t have to let the kid go but knew the blond would need to head back with his friends to shower and get enough sleep. 

 

“Alrighty! It’s a date then, kiddo.” Zack didn’t miss how Cloud’s eyes widened a little more at his deliberate use of the word, saw the light flush on pale cheeks that couldn’t be chalked up to the exertion earlier. “See you tomorrow in training!”

 

He was almost sorry to remove his arm from around the blond’s shoulders, but he gave the small cadet a pat on the back before waving and turning to head to his side of the base. 

 

He really wanted to do the Spazzing Seal right now. 

 

Humming, Zack was pretty sure he had a little skip to his step, but he was also sure no one would think anything of it. He was known to be a little too perky at times. Everyone would just blame it on the amount of candy and treats he liked to consume.

 

Now the million gil question was what to prepare for Wednesday. He recalled cadet food being absolutely disgusting and supposed whatever he got - even pizza and Wutaian take-out - would be heaven to the boys. And although he’d have liked to ply them with alcohol so that maybe Cloud would start giving more things away, it was a training night and the kids had Payne the next morning.

 

There was also the question of how he would convince Sephiroth to drop by, and what pretext to use. Sephiroth preferred direct approaches, but Zack knew that if he told him the real reason the silver-haired man would reject him on the spot and probably beat him to a pulp just because. 

 

He had slightly less than 48 hours to figure it out. He’d get it done somehow. 

 

After all, he was Zack Fair, Brigadier General Extraordinaire. 

 

##

 

Cloud cursed as he stubbed his toe for the third time this morning while getting ready for “Crazy Bastards Training”, as everyone had taken to calling it. He hadn’t slept well - the knowledge that tonight was dinner at Zack’s, as well as the fact that Reno was biding his time and pretending all was well instead of directly offering Cloud a chance to explain himself were driving him nuts. 

 

The reactions of the other cadets hadn’t helped - Bunker 7 was proud, of course, that six of their own had been singled out for private training and for dinner with SOLDIER’s second-in-command. Cadets from other bunkers who had hung out with all of them over the weekend had been good-naturedly envious, laughing at the six of them for being straddled with more training while asking them to bring some chow back from Zack’s for them. There had been whispers, of course, and more than once in the mess hall Cloud had glanced up to see angry side eyes aimed at him. Or them. He wasn’t sure. It helped that he wasn’t alone in this - and for this he was extremely grateful that Zack had picked six of them to undergo the private training and have dinner at his. Reno, Ray, Ralph and Jared had always been popular and respected - Cloud had only recently started building a reputation for himself - so with the four of them in the mix it appeared to make the singling out more palatable. 

 

Brian being included hadn’t helped matters though. No one seemed to understand why he’d been chosen, not when there were plenty more capable and talented cadets around. The general consensus appeared to be that the Kalm kid had been selected purely because the others needed a practice dummy.

 

Cloud felt horrible for Brian, but it was better than everyone believing Brian had only been included because he was their friend. One narrative at least spoke to Brian being needed; the other relegated him to being nothing but a hanger-on who wasn’t worth anything without his friends. 

 

He hadn’t realized he’d reached the track and started stretching on auto-pilot until Jared greeted him with a sultry, clingy ‘good morning’. The sight of the taller blond molding himself all over Cloud seemed to be enough to snap Ralph out of his yawning spree.

 

As soon as he could, Cloud hit the track running - he needed the mindlessness that always came from pounding away in loop after loop, needed to clear his head and carefully consider his options. Reno was a bigger issue than the other cadets and their rumours right now. Because those cadets were on the peripheral, and Reno was his friend.

 

_…huh?_

 

That statement had come so easily, had flowed so naturally in his mind, that Cloud stumbled slightly. A light slap to the back and he turned to face the reason for his current frazzled predicament. 

 

“OK there, Cloud?”

 

Reno’s tone and face were as relaxed and imbued with attitude as ever. Cloud wanted to punch him. 

 

It was RENO’s fault his thoughts and sleep were all messed up. The damn redhead hadn’t given Cloud any openings to broach the topic of Cloud’s nonexistent relationship with Zack, had steered the conversation from it every time a cadet from another bunker had speculated about Zack’s interest in Cloud. 

 

Direct approaches didn’t work with Reno. He was too slippery. But Cloud wasn’t used to dealing with people beyond giving orders, getting yelled at, getting cried on, and getting it on. The intricacies of manipulating a Turk in the making were lost on him.

 

Reno’s expression hadn’t changed, even as he apparently still waited for Cloud’s response. Cloud really wanted to hit him.

 

He shrugged just to annoy the redhead, turned back to the front and kept going. He wasn’t going to be the first to break and approach the topic. He’d endured unimaginable horrors, had saved the world twice, had lost parts of his soul on so many occasions. He could do this mental dance with a fifteen year old boy. 

 

Reno really had no idea who he was up against. 

 

_And let’s keep it that way, hmm?_

 

That familiar knot of fear tightened in his gut, made him wish he could just tell someone what was happening and have them assure him that everything would be alright.

 

_Wimps don’t save the world._

 

The voice was right. Cloud had to quit being such a fragile little debutante if he was going to rewrite history.

 

He focused on nothing, just taking in the cool pre-dawn Midgar air, thoughts drifting to Drivers Ed class yesterday which had been hilarious for all the best reasons. They’d had to forcibly hold Ralph down when another cadet had wondered why “stupid stick shifts even exist anymore”, while Jared had immediately begun an interesting attempt at pole dancing with his practice bike. Cloud supposed he should feel bad for finding Brian’s expression hilarious when the Kalm kid’s practice bike had fallen against him and pinned him down even before the light brown-haired cadet had even gotten a chance to grip the handlebars. 

 

_“The machines are attacking! The machines are attacking!”_

Ralph had yelled a warning, laughing. The black-haired cadet had spouted Matrix quotes all through dinner until Ray had busted his lip in private training. The Junon cadet swore it had been an accident, but Ralph had tackled him to the ground and they’d both been saddled with 200 burpees as punishment by Jeffries. 

_"They can sense your fear, Brian! Have no fear”_

 

Jared had been helpfully calling encouragement at Brian as the poor Kalm kid struggled to extricate himself from his ‘nasty machine’. Ralph, Ray, Reno and the other cadets had been howling with laughter, and it was only Grant who’d finally taken pity on the light brown haired cadet, lifting the practice bike off Brian as though it weighed nothing more than paper. 

 

Cloud himself had been in ecstasy at the familiar thrum of a bike between his legs, even as he knew the one he straddled had nothing on Fenrir. It was a step closer to the future, an old feeling in an old yet new time. 

 

He really missed his baby. Fenrir had been his freedom, his peace, his ticket to salvation - while he couldn’t ride fast enough to dislodge the demons inside, when he was on Fenrir zooming across plains, forcefully parting the wind, he could almost believe that, if he went _just_ a little faster, he would be able to leave all the pain behind. 

 

It was wishful thinking, he knew. But he adored his baby. She’d been a gift from Ralph and Ray after all.

 

This time Cloud’s stumble unbalance him enough to make him tip forward. If it wasn’t for Ray and Reno flanking him and reacting so swiftly, he would have embarrassed himself in front of the entire bunker. As they righted him, Cloud could tell both were giving him looks of concern and curiosity, but were too astute to ask. Ralph and Jared running behind them would have blocked the view of the split-second fumble from the rest of the bunker, so Cloud’s little mishap likely hadn’t been spotted by anyone else. 

 

But it really wasn’t like him to be so klutzy. A warrior couldn’t afford to make silly mistakes like this. He couldn’t save anyone, let alone the world, if he couldn’t walk without falling all over himself. Never mind that the thought that had caused it had ripped a giant hole in his mind and memories - Cloud was sure HE had built Fenrir himself with parts scavenged from around the world, and that Cid had helped him out with modifications and explaining some of the more technical terms Cloud had encountered in his research. 

 

_What the FUCK is going on?!_

 

It had to be the effects of the time travel. Not only were his actions doubtless spilling over into the future, but they were also feeding back into his consciousness, which had taken a tumble into the past where he was consciously changing the future.

 

He’d assumed he would remain unaffected by any changes to the future, that he and Aeris would be the only two to ever know the truth of what could have been. 

 

But now…

 

Would he, some day, forget what he was fighting for? If each action here was reflected in the future and therefore his own knowledge of the future, would he eventually forget his friends and all their sacrifices? Forget Biggs and Jesse, lying broken and bleeding on the stairs? Forget the truth of Shinra, SOLDIER, Jenova? Forget the Tifa he knew, who’d stood by him through thick and thin; forget Aeris, who’d died because of him but who had given him a second chance anyway; forget about how Zack had given his life for Cloud, the ultimate gift to a friend? 

 

...Forget Sephiroth, and the madness? 

 

This was too much. He might have been a quiet, melancholic person, but he wasn’t a philosopher or a scientist. He was just the spiky haired blond with the really big sword. 

 

Who’d saved the world twice. And who needed to stop the tragedies from ever happening. 

 

The thought was sobering, and oddly calming, anchoring him in what he had to do instead of falling into a black hole of time-space continuum babble. 

 

He couldn’t afford to fumble, not when so much and so many depended on him getting it absolutely right. He couldn’t fall again, no matter how tired, confused or hurt he was, he couldn’t fail again. 

 

Light taps on his back and triceps, and Cloud knew it was his friends letting him know that they were here, and that everything would be OK.

 

##

 

“You need to talk to him.”

 

Reno glanced at the brunette, the only acknowledgement Ray got but he knew the red-head understood. It was obvious to all of them that Cloud was worrying his pretty little head over Reno’s perception of the blond’s relationship with the Brigadier General. Why Cloud thought he was a closed book was a mystery to Ray, but he supposed it had something to do with the small blond’s backwater upbringing and general obliviousness to anything that wasn’t battle-related. 

 

That and Ray had been trained since young to read people, to figure out what made them tick, what they were really thinking, in order to make them offers they couldn’t refuse. 

 

Everyone had a price. Everyone had a weakness. 

 

His father had drilled it into his head in their orange garden. Women and children could be careless, but Ray couldn’t afford to be. He was the only child of the Johnson family, but that didn’t mean he’d inherit the empire if he didn’t prove himself worthy. And worthy meant always doing the right thing, and never making a single careless mistake. 

 

He still recalled the disappointment in his father’s eyes when he’d informed his parents that he’d signed up to cadet training, still recalled the way his mother had wept quietly at dinner as his father broke his bottle of ridiculously expensive wine on the table, furious at his son but unable to harm his own flesh and blood. Ray hadn’t spoken to his father since then, though his mother still sent care packages regularly, coded messages passed along via undercover agents to let him know she loved him still, that his father loved him even though they weren’t on speaking terms anymore. 

 

Vito Johnson had been badly scarred in the War. Had come home a broken man, a brutal man who had struggled and failed often to soften his violence with wisdom and compassion so as not to harm the ones closest to him, and it had only been the birth of his son that had tempered the cruelty in his eyes and hands. 

 

They’d never had a regular or perfect relationship, but Ray had always known his father had loved him. Which was why he told himself that his father hadn’t meant those words, that his father had only been reacting out of fear that his son would never come home again. 

 

It still hurt though. But he’d gotten used to it. He had to. This was his choice - to break away from the Family, to make a name for himself as Ray Johnson, out of his father’s shadow. He knew the games being played within the Family, knew many wanted him out of the picture, were doubtless hoping he’d be killed in action so that they could pretend to mourn while using his father’s grief against him as they muscled in on the coveted position of Godfather. 

 

He also knew he would never let that title go to anyone else but him. He hadn’t yet worked out the finer details, but he knew he’d come out of SOLDIER in a position to take charge, made stronger by blood and steel. Whether that meant retiring from the force with the necessary skills or connections, he wasn’t certain. 

 

He hadn’t been counting on Cloud’s character 180. 

 

Before this, Ray had always taken charge naturally and subtly. A Godfather had to be careful, after all, couldn’t stand out too much but had to make it known unequivocally Who Was In Charge. He knew his looks helped, as did his deceptively calm attitude, reminiscent of a certain black-haired SOLDIER First Class. But now, with Cloud, Ray was surprised himself that he had ceded command so easily to someone who’d always been weaker than him.

 

This Cloud wasn’t someone Ray ever wanted to make an enemy of. Of that he was absolutely certain. 

 

It helped that Cloud had plenty of issues, was an open book (at least to Ray), and had no airs whatsoever. Cloud’s propensity for zoning out and keeping quiet meant that Ray still naturally led in all matters other than battle. He was fine with that - he was more suited to chess games in the cigar room, mental warfare over wine and false smiles. A Godfather had Generals and Soldiers - Ray didn’t have to become General of SOLDIER to make a good Head of the Family. 

 

Cloud would rise high through the ranks of SOLDIER, Ray knew. And Ray would be right there by his side, one of his loyal inner circle, so that when he left SOLDIER, he could always count on Cloud to back him up no matter what. The blond was the kind who could never refuse his friends, no matter what they asked of him. 

 

And if the little Nibelheim cadet tried, they’d just tie him up and withhold his orgasms until he caved - like they had last week.

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

 

Ray might have been a genius and a Godfather in the making, but he was still young and hormonal. He really needed to get a handle on his hard-ons, but it was difficult around Cloud. 

 

“They’ll work it out.” Jared bumped his elbow lightly into Ray’s side as the blond murmured softly so as not to be overheard by the others. Ray glanced at the other cadet, expression softening slightly as it always did when he was faced with the nomad. He’d always had a soft spot for Jared, ever since they’d met when the blond had been turning tricks for a living in the back alleys of Junon, and Ray had snuck away from his handlers to explore the city that would be his to rule. 

 

“I know.” 

 

Reno had nudged Cloud slightly ahead of them as the cadets walked towards hand-to-hand. Ray knew that Cloud would be calmer by lunch, but would start freaking out again as dinner with the Brigadier General neared. 

 

He knew the SOLDIER had told them not to bring anything, but it felt wrong to turn up at someone else’s home empty handed. He wondered what his mother would say if she knew. 

 

He wondered what his father would say.

 

##

 

It was mid-way through the Confidence Chamber that Cloud stopped being able to keep the panic at bay. He could blame it on the tear gas, but he knew it was the upcoming dinner with Zack that was making his emotions go loopy. 

 

He’d been feeling much better since the talk with Reno on the way to hand-to-hand. Not that they’d actually talked much. Reno had nudged him ahead of the others, swung an arm around his shoulders as usual and casually said “It’s cool, man. That SOLDIER cat really likes you, and that’s a good thing.” 

 

Cloud had grunted lightly in reply, but the words and the familiar weight of Reno’s arms around his shoulder had taken a load off his chest. He didn’t want to think about why Reno’s opinion mattered so much, why he was allowing other people to dictate his mood, but he’d felt much better, even managing to ignore the horrid taste of whatever lunch was, until now. 

 

He couldn’t recall ever having dinner in Zack’s home. They’d eaten together, sure, when they’d been on the run - or more like Zack had fed Cloud whatever he’d managed to hunt or scavenge - and they’d dined together on that fateful mission. But this was different. This would be a side of Zack that Cloud had never seen - his home, his personal space. What would it be like, he wondered? 

 

He didn’t have to wonder long. 1830 came before he knew it, freshly bathed and standing before the Alpha Tower in the Senior Officer’s Blocks with the others. This building was fancier than the rest, and that was saying something - as much as the residents of these Blocks were SOLDIERS, Shinra’s typical opulence was clear everywhere they turned. 

 

Cloud didn’t want to consider the fact that this was where Sephiroth potentially lived. Where the silver-haired man’s bedroom was.

 

_Stop it, stop it, focus!_

 

Ray and Reno were guiding him into the elevator as though it was the most natural thing in the world to do, everyone except Brian acting completely nonchalant about the luxury that surrounded them. Ray had doubtless grown up surrounded by similar sophistication, but Cloud sincerely doubted Reno had ever stood in such a fancy elevator in his life. 

 

Not for the first time, he envied the red-head’s ability to look completely at ease anywhere he went.

 

They reached Zack’s floor in seconds, the Brigadier General taking up one half of the second-highest floor. Cloud really didn’t want to think about who lived just above them. 

 

The door was open, and Cloud wanted to smile and cry at how very Zack the apartment was. The SOLDIER was nowhere to be seen, but he called out a “make yourselves at home, kids!” from somewhere to their left as they tentatively crossed the threshold into a wildly uncoordinated yet charmingly haphazard living room filled with posters, photographs, knick-knacks, comics, video games, and DVDs. It looked like Zack had tried to tidy up, sweeping everything off plush couches and onto the mismatched rugs. Cloud had never wanted to hug a sofa before, but he really wanted to hold the piece of furniture tight and thank it for giving Zack a comfortable place to rest.

 

He was definitely losing it.

 

Ralph had casually picked up some mechanical contraption and was fiddling with it, while Jared was sifting through video games before grabbing one and turning to show it to Ray with a grin. The brunette laughed - Cloud assumed it was an inside joke, seeing as the title of the game was “Streetfighter” and Cloud didn’t understand what was so funny about the name and visuals on the cover. 

 

A warm hand in his hair and his head was shaken like one of those fancy coffee drinks in those cafes that were so popular. Zack’s very pleased voice was in his ear as the First told them he was glad they’d made it, and he hoped they were hungry.

 

Cloud hadn’t noticed it before in his nervousness, but the scent of Wutaian was making his stomach grumble like Barret when he was losing an argument.

 

Zack heard it clearly, given his proximity to Cloud and his Mako-enhancements, and the First laughed while gently shoving Cloud into the same sofa the blond had wanted to hug earlier. Ralph and Reno helped carry food over, and Cloud’s lips twitched as Zack casually swept everything off the coffee table to make way for the food. They settled in on the rugs and cushions scattered around the expansive yet cluttered room, digging in with gusto and Zack pottered about fussing over drinks and what to watch on the TV. 

 

In the end the First popped in a random movie, saying he’d always loved it fast and furious, and Cloud choked slightly when Reno, Ray, Ralph and Jared looked at him and smirked. Scowling, he busied himself with stuffing his face - it’d been a long time since he’d had Wutaian, though he usually got the take-out whenever he stopped in any towns for deliveries. He adored the flavors, though he’d never admit it to Tifa, who usually preferred to cook him “wholesome” meals that were “good for health and easy on the stomach”. He’d given up reminding her that he was genetically-enhanced and therefore the likelihood of stomach ulcers happening to him were lower than the possibility of Cid quitting smoking. 

 

He wondered how she was doing. 

 

Around him, Zack had started a lively conversation with Ralph about the cars in the movie, with Jared and Ray joining in intermittently. Reno was ogling the scantily-clad women on-screen, while Brian looked as scandalised as ever. Cloud wondered if he should tell the Kalm cadet that he had pieces of rice stuck to his cheek. 

 

Zack had ordered enough food for their entire bunker, Grant included. Cloud couldn’t recall the last time he’d been so stuffed, the warmth of the food and the company, the overwhelming Zack-ness of the apartment making him feel like dozing off right then and there. It was testament to Zack’s natural way with people that Brian had loosened up and was chatting away cheerfully while helping clear the table to make room for dessert. Cloud had tried to help and been casually shoved into the sofa by Zack, his protests falling on deaf ears as the First mock-glared and hair-ruffled him into doing as he was told. 

 

He hadn’t thought he could eat any more, but he’d always been a sucker for warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream. It reminded him of home, of Seventh Heaven, of laughter and good company. It reminded him of his mother, Tifa, his friends and their unconditional love and support for him, and how much he wanted to take care of them and make them proud.

 

He blamed the glassiness of his eyes on the fact that the pie was steaming hot, but he doubted he was fooling anyone with the way Zack ruffled his hair again. The First had taken to sitting cross-legged on his sofa next to Cloud, and was digging into his pie with gusto. Zack was lucky Mako was said to prevent diabetes. 

 

They’d eaten quickly - six hungry cadets starved of flavorful meals, and a SOLDIER First Class with a genetically-enhanced metabolism. It was barely 2000 hours by the time they were done with dessert, and Reno was leaning against the sofa looking like a happy fat cat. Cloud supposed he was no better, if the blissed out expressions on the faces of the others was anything to go by. It’d been a long time since they’d had anything that didn’t taste like nothing or utter garbage. 

 

After they’d cleared everything away - Zack casually chucking utensils into the sink, takeout containers into a bin for Services to sort out, unopened containers of Wutaian strewn across the counter - the First suggested they play a game. As his video game console didn’t allow for more than two players, he invited the cadets into his “study” to dig up possible board and card games. Cloud opted to head to the bathroom, knowing full well his opinion would be irrelevant in this matter, and needing to pee after all the iced tea and water Zack had forced on him. He wondered at the perkiness with which Zack waved him off and told him to man the fort, chalked it up to the First’s natural cheer and the sugar rush from all the ice cream the black-haired man had eaten. 

 

As he returned from the bathroom, he wondered if Wutaians had spiked the take-out to cause delusions. Then he wondered if he was having a heart attack from all the sugar and cholesterol he’d consumed. 

 

He was pretty sure it was Sephiroth sitting lotus style on the floor of Zack’s living room rifling through stacks of DVDs that were scattered in front of the TV. 

 

But that couldn’t be - because surely Sephiroth didn’t watch anything other than the news, and SURELY the silver-haired man didn’t walk around Zack’s apartment barefoot with his dress shirt unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up slightly, hair pulled back in a low ponytail held in place with a bright yellow band that must surely have been from Zack. 

 

When a piercing emerald gaze fixed on him, Cloud couldn’t remember why oxygen was important. 

 

##

 

Sephiroth wondered for the umpteenth time why he put up with Zack. Especially when the man had stolen his copy of the latest season of Sherlock some time today when he knew Sephiroth had planned to finish it tonight. 

 

He wondered if the First had been expecting him, given the door had been left open and the smell of Wutaian was in the air. He hadn’t eaten yet, had just gotten back from the office and planned to heat up one of the packaged meals Shinra usually left for him. Seeing the amount of unopened containers on the counter though, and the volume of trash, he assumed Zack had gone on one of his idiotic personal challenges and had thrown in the towel. Which meant that the Black Porcupine surely wouldn’t miss a few containers of stir-fry. 

 

There was some God awful movie playing on the TV, the sound system spitting the profanity laden soundtrack at him. He didn’t feel like turning the volume down though - the last time he’d tried Zack had howl-whined at him all night, even following him up to his penthouse to continue screeching about it. Sephiroth had had to give Zack a bottle of his finest Junon whisky to get the First to leave him in peace. 

 

He supposed he should be grateful that their genetic enhancements meant they would suffer no lasting damage to their eardrums. 

 

He could hear the sounds of a toilet flushing over the explicit lyrics, decided to ignore his annoying second in command when he sauntered back into the living room, no doubt ready to launch into another spiel about how great Strife was or whatnot. Zack had taken to giving Sephiroth the play-by-play of private training daily, punctuating his account of events with superfluous adjectives about Strife’s greatness. Sephiroth was thankful the First hadn’t yet brought up his little slip from the Northern Crater, though he wouldn’t put it past the First to be biding his time waiting to attack when Sephiroth least expected it. 

 

Sephiroth would admit to himself only in private that he had been slightly less than accurate in his initial assessment of Zack Fair. He’d written the First off as nothing more than a besotted puppy of Angeal’s with no real ability beyond a manic bounciness, but when Zack had stepped in to take up the slack left behind by Genesis and Angeal’s departure, Sephiroth had realized why Angeal had favored the spiky-haired SOLDIER above all others. 

 

Zack Fair was the quintessential wolf in sheep’s clothing.

 

That was odd. He could sense someone standing nearby, but Zack wouldn’t keep silent in front of him. The man had awed by Sephiroth initially, but that had changed as they’d spent more time together in the hunt for Angeal and Genesis. While Sephiroth appreciated silence, he also appreciated the fact that Zack was the only person left who was comfortable around him. 

 

It made him feel less like the freak of nature that he was.

 

_Stop it._

 

He had Hojo to blame for his sour mood. The scientist had come into his office today under the guise of “checking on him” after reading the mission report. 

 

Which was why he’d left the office earlier than usual, and opted not to bring work home. A nice episode of Sherlock would have been just the thing to help erase the foulness of Hojo’s visit today, but Zack had HAD to steal Sephiroth’s copy.

 

The silence was becoming more worrying by the second. Had something happened to Zack? Was he unwell?

 

He turned, and wondered if whatever Hojo had injected him with caused delusions. Because the blond cadet that had been invading his dreams was standing less than ten feet away in his tee and fatigues, staring wide-eyed at Sephiroth.

 

If Sephiroth had been Zack, he would have pinched himself.

 

This close to the cadet, Sephiroth could see the striking beauty in pale features, the softness of blond spikes that somehow defied gravity without the copious hair products Sephiroth was certain Zack used.  

 

It was the brilliant sapphires that made Sephiroth wish the cadet wouldn’t look at him. At once old yet young, guarded yet vulnerable, seeming to whisper promises of eternity in Heaven and Hell, piercing into him as though they knew each other intimately - darkness and all. And yet, Sephiroth had never met the cadet in his life - of that he was positive. There had been the chance encounter in the hallway when the cadets had crossed paths with him, and he had observed the boy sparring against Zack and in Battle Sims, but they had never been this close to each other before, just the two of them. 

 

And yet it felt like it had always been just the two of them, separated by ten feet of eternity.

 

The sound of Zack’s laughter startled him into reality, though he didn’t show any outward signs of reaction. Rising to his feet as gracefully and silently as ever, Sephiroth stood tall, tried to will the uncomfortable emotions away but for once his body was betraying his mind. He needed to find out what Hojo had put in that syringe. 

 

“Sir.” 

 

Strife's voice was as soft as his lips looked, and Sephiroth cursed himself for wondering if they really were as tantalizing as the sounds they’d made in his dreams. He forced his gaze up to the cadet’s eyes, wished the boy would look away yet oddly glad he was still looking straight into Sephiroth’s eyes. 

 

He wondered what Strife saw, what Strife was seeing, as those ageless skies stared into his.

 

_Ahem, respond?_

 

That voice, so very Zack, kicked his natural courtesy into gear. 

 

“Cadet Strife. Good evening.”

 

He didn’t miss how the boy’s eyes widened at his voice and usage of name, knew the blond must be cursing his traitorous skin for flushing, cursed his own traitorous mind for supplying him with images of that face flushed and full of want beneath him, of Strife’s lips parted as the boy panted and begged…

 

_“Sephiroth!”_

 

Those blue eyes were brighter, colder. Like the sky on a winter’s day. Raging, hurt, furious, glassy with tears unshed. 

 

Sephiroth frowned slightly. What had that been? It had been Strife’s face and voice, no doubt, but both had been older, rougher - more a man’s than a boy’s. 

 

The cadet was frowning slightly too, eyes narrowing. Sephiroth couldn’t quite understand the wary edge in them, wondered at the tension he felt emanating from the blond’s body as the cadet held himself as though ready to attack at a moment’s notice.

 

“Seph!” 

 

The Black Porcupine barrelled into him, and the moment was broken. Turning, Sephiroth could see several other cadets standing in the corridor leading from Zack’s study/store room, recognized the redhead as the one who was usually with Strife, deduced that the other cadets were Strife’s ‘posse’, as Zack called them. He’d seen their faces on the camera as he’d watched Battle Sims, had noticed them in the training hall even as he’d kept his eyes on Strife. The brunette was the son of the Godfather, the black-haired boy was the nephew of that cranky pilot from Rocket Town, the blond they didn’t have much information on, and the light brown haired boy was an Average Joe from Kalm.

 

“Oh right sorry sorry I forgot to return the DVD!” Zack was grinning, and Sephiroth realized belatedly - and ruefully - that this time he had been beautifully manipulated by his second in command. 

 

_Well played, Zachary. Well played._

 

He’d get the First back somehow. 

 

“Anyway, since you’re here, meet Cloud!” One day Sephiroth would make Zack recite the entire SOLDIER rule book end-to-end. The First had abandoned all propriety, grabbing Sephiroth’s wrist and pulling him towards the blond cadet who had schooled his face into a perfect mask of deference. 

 

Almost perfect, Sephiroth corrected himself. Those bright blue eyes still held hints of that mysterious emotion that the General couldn’t quite fathom. It intrigued him, the way all mysteries did, but more than that it felt…familiar. Like he knew what it was, SHOULD know what it was, but he didn’t and it was frustrating him to no end. 

 

No time to dwell on that frustration now. Zack had pulled him to within two feet of Strife, and was standing next to them looking expectantly at the two like a mother introducing her firstborn to her newborn.

 

Sephiroth wondered again why he put up with the black-haired First.

 

But his innate sense of propriety had kicked in - as had something else he couldn’t quite understand - and his hand moved forward, hovering in the space between himself and the blond, whose own right hand - his sword hand - had twitched the second Sephiroth’s had moved. 

 

Why did the boy react with suppressed violence and fear in reality as well as in his dreams? 

 

_Because you’re a monster._

 

The self-loathing train never left the station as Strife reached out and clasped his hand, their palms and digits fitting together perfectly despite the size difference, making Sephiroth itch to stare at their seamless fit, making him wish he’d never have to let go of a soft, lightly calloused hand. 

 

“Pleasure to meet you, Cloud.” 

 

The words came from somewhere within him, but he hadn’t planned on using the cadet’s first name. Yet it felt just like their clasped hands: right.

 

The smaller hand tightened slightly around his, sky blue eyes widening slightly and flashing their unreadable Morse Code of emotions at him, then pink lips parted and the voice that haunted his dreams spoke: “Pleasure is mine, Se-...sir."

 

Sephiroth wondered at the odd pang of disappointment he’d felt when the blond had used the salutation instead of his name. The cadet was only behaving appropriately.

 

_Well, someone has to._

 

Sephiroth had clearly been spending too much time with Zack. Who, beaming, was launching into a speech on how well Cloud and his friends were doing, and how Zack had invited them to dinner because they had earned better food than they got, how much cadet chow sucked, and how he’d ordered too much so Sephiroth was free to take the rest of the stir fry home for dinner instead of eating those God awful pre-cooked Shinra meals he seemed to survive on. 

 

The silver-haired man tuned out his second in command, keeping his gaze fixed on Strife’s as though the more he stared into blue eyes the better he’d understand what he was feeling. 

 

Then Zack nudged him and broke the spell - Sephiroth released Cloud’s hand - he would never admit that it was with more than a pinch of regret - and turned to the other cadets who had lined up before him in respectful attention. Zack introduced each of them, adding comments about their unique abilities along with their names, and Sephiroth nodded to them as they saluted him, though his focus remained on the small blond standing close to him.

 

This was dangerous. Too many unknowns, too many questions, too many urges to do things that were entirely inappropriate - and though it did feel right, like a familiar old coat, it also scratched at him under the surface of his skin, like an angry beast attempting to claw its way out of a pit. 

 

He needed time to think, to regroup, to sort through his thoughts. Strife’s presence was upsetting his equilibrium. 

 

He turned to Zack. “The DVD?”

 

Zack bounded off and found it in the pile Sephiroth himself had been sorting through fruitlessly somehow, then grabbed a bag and shoved the DVD in together with the remaining containers of Wutaian before holding it out to Sephiroth. All the while deep blue eyes twinkled and glinted, and Sephiroth couldn’t wait to train with Zack again. 

 

He nodded at the other cadets once more, told them to keep up the good work - they flushed and straightened, even the redhead who was clearly trying to play it cool as all redheads seemed to do - then turned back to Strife.

 

He wasn’t sure why he said it, but he knew he meant it: “I look forward to welcoming you to SOLDIER…Cloud.”

 

_And to my bed as well_ , a voice added helpfully.

 

Sephiroth had been spending far too much time with Zack. He left before he could make a bigger fool of himself. He had a reputation to maintain after all. 

 

Yet even as he strode down the hallway towards the elevator, his right hand continued to tingle with pleasant warmth, as though Strife had left the heart of a star in his palm. 

 

##

 

Cloud wandered back to the barracks in a daze. It helped that the others were quieter than usual as well, though whether because they were too full from dinner or because of the meeting with Sephiroth, he couldn’t tell. His own thoughts were still scattered, emotions ripping and forming within him with the destructive force of a tsunami. 

 

Zack had asked them to keep Sephiroth’s visit a secret, saying the less that people knew about the General’s private life the better. They had agreed - though it could be argued that they hadn’t been in the right frame of mind to be making promises. They had left soon after, Zack looking like he’d wanted them to stay and play Cards Against Humanity but doubtless understanding that they needed to rest and calm themselves. The General had a reputation for short circuiting cognitive processes, and they WERE only cadets. 

 

The six of them got into bed with little fanfare, and Cloud was thankful that the others were better at dealing with people than he was. He felt numb yet in tumult - seeing Sephiroth, standing so close to him, _touching_ him…

 

He clenched his right hand, swore he could still feel the warmth of the silver-haired man’s palm. He recalled being surprised at the fact that Sephiroth’s touch was warm - he’d always assumed it would be cold, just like his eyes and voice as the madness reigned, just like how Cloud felt every time he woke from another impossible dream. But the tall SOLDIER's touch had been gentle yet firm, steadying him and enveloping his hand in a comfortable cocoon of security and calm.

 

And his eyes…

 

His eyes held none of the madness or bloodlust that Cloud had begun to associate with the color green. Instead they were calm, tired, thoughtful, curious, intelligent…confused. 

 

Which meant that Cloud’s return to the past was also having an impact on Sephiroth. But how? It made no sense - Cloud himself was being impacted because his consciousness was from the future, but Sephiroth no longer existed in the future. Cloud had made sure of that. Twice.

 

The familiar knife twisted in his heart at the memory of Sephiroth's dissipating body, the knowledge that it had been Cloud’s blades that had sliced through him, sent him back to being a mere memory - the once Great General nothing more than a cruel villain who had sought to destroy them all.

 

_Stop it!_

 

The voice sounded like a mix of Tifa’s and Aeris’, and…

 

_That’s it! Aeris!_

 

Cloud wanted to kick himself for not thinking of visiting her sooner. He’d go this weekend, find an hour or so to break away from the others and meet her. Never mind what Reno said about the Turks watching her - he needed answers, reassurance. He wanted to hold her and remember the moment forever.

 

He didn’t know what he’d do if she had forgotten him. He didn’t think it’d be possible, she was an Ancient and should be able to retain a higher level of consciousness than them…right?

 

He wished he’d paid more attention to Bugenhagen’s lectures about Ancients.

 

He barely registered the “Lights out!” bellow, thoughts aswirl with questions, trying to shut the stupid little thing called Hope up before it fed more ridiculous ideas to him and caused his heart to buoy unnecessarily. 

 

Having hope, having expectations that everything would work out for him…would only end in crushing disappointment. He’d had enough of that.

 

Still, even as sleep claimed him, the warmth in his right hand seemed to whisper of a future where dreams really did come true. 

 

##

 

Reno wanted to hit someone. Thanks to the General’s ‘spontaneous’ (yeah right - Reno had seen the look in the black-haired SOLDIER’s eyes, had known the First had planned it, wanted the General and Cloud to meet) visit to the Brigadier General’s apartment last night, he’d been plagued with uncomfortable emotions that dug their fat little fingers into his mind and refused to let go. 

 

Seeing the tall silver-haired male standing so close to Cloud, Reno had wanted to sit back and nod and say that “this is right”. At the same time he’d wanted to charge forward and yell at Cloud to run for his life. 

 

He didn’t know why he’d had two such extreme reactions, especially since this was his first time actually meeting the General.

 

And the General was even more glorious up close, despite the casual, semi-undressed state and that stupid yellow hair tie that was doubtless a gag gift from the Brigadier General. 

 

Plus, what was up with the General eating Wutaian takeout and watching DVDs?

 

It was too much to take in - this much personal information about someone who was more Myth than Man. What made matters worse was the fact that for once, Reno didn’t feel like monetizing this knowledge or using it for personal gain. He hated it, the fact that seeing a side of the General no one else knew was more valuable to him as a treasured memory than as a bargaining chip. Yet it felt wrong to trade this information for something, anything - like it cheapened the moment, debased the General and Reno. 

 

He was a Slum Kid, a Hood Rat. Someone who never kept valuables, who avoided attachments, because they could and would be used against him, could be taken from him and then he’d suffer from their loss.

 

Yet here he was: making friends with Cloud and the others, caring so much about Cloud and how the damn blond felt, wanting to preserve a memory that was shared only by eight of them. 

 

If anyone wanted to hurt him, all they had to do was take his friends away. 

 

And that thought scared him more than anything. The knowledge that he now had weaknesses, vulnerabilities. 

 

Vulnerabilities were to be exploited, weaknesses were to be used against you. That was how the world worked. 

 

And yet…

 

Reno looked to his left, at Cloud and Ray facing forward as they ran. Cloud looked tired, worn - like he’d fought a demon and won but it had taken everything he’d had. Ray looked the same as always - that Junon kid was too damn good at poker. He turned slightly towards the back, saw Ralph and Jared chatting as they pounded along the track, both of them looking no worse for wear. 

 

He turned back towards the front, realized Cloud and Ray were looking at him curiously, Cloud’s baby blue eyes tinged with concern. 

 

_Still trying to take care of everyone else, huh?_

 

Reno gave them both what he hoped was his signature smirk, knew it hadn’t come out right when the worry in Cloud’s eyes didn’t fade, but was grateful that Cloud chose to let it go with nothing but a light slap to Reno’s tricep. 

 

It was rare for Cloud to proactively touch him or anyone outside sparring and fucking. 

 

The blond had sped up as usual - he seemed to enjoy annoying them with his speed and stamina - leaving Reno to stare incredulously at a lithe, sweaty back.

 

Cloud had touched him of his own accord.

 

Reno hadn’t given much thought to how important touch was. Growing up in the slums, with its lack of space and overcrowding, Reno had become desensitized - while he didn’t like being touched, he’d come to accept that it was a natural occurrence to bump into others or make light skin contact. 

 

Yet he recalled something Ralph had mentioned over the weekend as they sauntered around under the Plate, the black-haired cadet casually noting that Cloud never touched anyone unless absolutely necessary. 

 

At the time he’d told himself that it didn’t matter who the blond did or didn’t touch.

 

But now…

 

It wasn’t like a single touch from Cloud would magically make his worries vanish, would ensure no one would ever use his weaknesses against him. 

 

But it did make him feel much better knowing that Cloud had reached out and touched him of his own accord. Like Reno mattered more than whatever it was that had always held the blond back. 

 

Or maybe the lack of sleep was messing with him, and making him read too much into this.

 

_Fuck it. Three more months._

 

It was make or break. Reno would be damned if the hell he’d put himself through was for naught. He was gonna rock the Suit and Tie (well, maybe not the tie) and he was going to prove once and for all that he was more than a Hood Rat, more than another unwanted bastard whose birth mother spread her legs for a living. 

 

He was Reno, and he’d prove the haters wrong. Because that’s how he rolled.

 

##

 

The cadets usually didn’t look forward to Basics of IED class, but today it meant that they would be given information about tomorrow’s Battle Sims. After the last round, when they’d been allowed to use a SOLDIER training arena and had won in decisive fashion, Bunker 7 was under pressure to deliver in style once again. 

 

Or rather, Ralph, Reno and Jared had sworn to wipe the arena with every other team once more, and now Team Fenrir had to put their money where the Three Stooges’ mouths were. 

 

Cloud wanted to slap them. As it was, the heckling and trash talking throughout lunch was a welcome diversion from the tumult that continued in his mind after meeting Sephiroth. Now, his inner voice couldn’t say that the General didn’t know him. Because he did - the silver haired man had known his name, had used his first name in conversation, had said that he looked forward to welcoming Cloud to SOLDIER.

 

If there was one thing Cloud knew with absolute certainty about Sephiroth, it was that he never said things he didn’t mean.

 

Cloud was grateful for the raucous yelling around him in the mess hall distracting him from his thoughts. It wouldn’t do to start thinking about Sephiroth or his words. No matter how much he’d wanted that moment to last forever, no matter how much he wanted to just relive those precious few minutes when it had just been him and Sephiroth - no madness, Jenova, Meteor or AVALANCHE in the way. 

 

A nudge, and Ray’s calm voice: “He likes you, you know.”

 

Cloud looked up, startled, flushing as he wondered if he’d said Sephiroth’s name aloud. Schooling his features into one of mild confusion, he furrowed his brows slightly as he gave Ray a look he knew the brunette wasn’t buying.

 

He was right. Ray just snorted and looked amused. 

 

“You know who.” With a smirk, the Junon cadet turned towards Ralph and started their favorite “Yo Mama” routine, which Jared clearly adored if his fangirly eyes were anything to go by.

 

Why the other blond was so enamored with Ray and Ralph was beyond Cloud. He admitted they were both good-looking ( _and good in bed_ , the insidious voice whispered), and were solid friends he depended on. But Jared seemed especially fond of both the dark haired boys - particularly Ray - despite the other blond’s penchant for harassing Brian. 

 

He didn’t dwell on it, knowing his ineptitude with reading people outside of battle, and general obliviousness, meant that he’d have missed any clues anyway. 

 

Towards the end of Basics of iED, the cadets had stopped taking notes or paying attention to their instructor, and were staring hungrily at the door for the runner to inform them of Battle Sims’ arrangements. 

 

Cloud wondered if, after meeting Sephiroth yesterday, they’d be allowed to continue using SOLDIER arenas. 

 

He pushed the thought away furiously. Wishful thinking did absolutely nothing but hurt you.

 

At length, the runner came by and the cadets watched in rapt attention as he handed a slip of paper to Corporal O’Neil. When the runner had left, O’Neil gave an amused half-smile to the fifteen cadets watching him like hungry sharks. 

 

"Battle Sims will be taking place in the SOLDIER Night Incursion facility.”

 

Cloud wondered if all the instructors had been told a specific time to release the information. It seemed like the mayhem that reverberated through the training grounds was too synchronized.

 

“Alright! We’re incursion-ing on SOLDIER ground!” Ralph leapt up, pumping his fist in the air.

 

“Yes! Entering SOLDIERs in the dark!” That was Jared. Of course.

 

Ray glanced at Cloud, that knowing look on his face again. 

 

“Told you he likes you.”

 

Cloud didn’t know if he wanted to hug him or hit him.

 

##

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: A quick look in the future, and the appearance of Cloud’s cadet friends. Of course the future still remains fluid - lives, appearances, behaviours, characteristics, back-stories changing depending on Cloud’s actions in the past (leaving the door open here in case I decide to go on an FFXV / GoT route). Just thought I’d use the ‘future scene’ to give a little more insight into Ray’s background - the poker & drinking skills, how he always seems to know everything that’s happening, how he’s so good with dealing with people, the whiskies he gets in care packages, how his family’s so loaded and yet he’s so street smart. (That and “The Godfather 1 & 2” are my all-time favorite movies). 
> 
> A/N 2: “I eat pressure for breakfast” is from The Rock - when Stanley Goodspeed is being pressed to remove the guidance chips from the biological weapons in Alcatraz. 
> 
> A/N 3: Orange garden, and “women and children can be careless” are references to Godfather when Vito speaks to Michael in the garden of their family home. The argument at dinner about Ray signing up for SOLDIER is similar to the fight between Michael and his brothers when he informed them he’d enlisted to serve in World War II.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, yaoi, and SMUT (LEMONS!!! GANGBANG!!! BDSM!!!). Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read. 
> 
> A/N: Thank you to all who took the time to leave your kudos and comments! Appreciate all your thoughts and suggestions - they help me refine the fic further. Thanks also to Smiling Seshat for offering to beta or function as a sounding board - I just may take you up on the offer some day

 

The Night Incursion mission was slightly more complicated than the Amphibious Assault. Where before they’d only needed to storm the enemy control room (i.e. “Disneyland”) in order to properly “claim the bunker” on the hill, this time they had to secure ‘keys' from the same set (each team carried one ‘key' - which matched with two others from its unique set) to form a disc that could be used to open a particular area of the Night Incursion Dome. Depending on the area they managed to open, the team would either be facing a blank wall, a booby-trapped maze, two teams of ten SOLDIER Thirds each (who were doubtless itching for revenge), or the path to the control room (most likely guarded), within which the team would then need to find a particular set of codes, figure it out, then input their response into the system in order to win. Only one team out of the 15 in total would be allowed to win, which meant that working together was out of the question: it would be a free-for-all. Despite there being 143 cadets in total currently in the programme (they’d started as 144 cadets in total but Matt was still out of the picture after Cloud’s little manoeuvre), three cadets were being joined by three Thirds to bring the total teams up to 15: which meant 5 sets of keys - one set per area within the Dome. And they would be doing all this in the pitch blackness of a simulated Night Incursion. Target practice had been cancelled to allow the cadets five hours to complete the mission. It was also to prepare them for what real life missions would be like, Cloud knew - more time was spent staking out targets (scoping, waiting for the opportune moment) than all out brawling. 

 

‘Keys’ would only be distributed to COs by the instructors after breakfast, once completed DD forms were submitted. No one knew what the keys looked like, or how to tell which belonged in a set. To make it easier for the cadets, COs were required to wear the keys around their necks over their vests - though whether they were keeping the keys wrapped / concealed in pouches or clearly displaying them was up to each team. 

 

Brian had freaked out upon reading the mission objectives, but Cloud had noticed the gleams in the others’ eyes - he assumed he had the same look on his face, given how his breathing had sped up a little. 

 

 _It’s impossible!_ Brian had wailed. _The team with the Thirds will beat us! They'll definitely know what the key combination is! AND they can see in the dark without the goggles!_

 

 _Impossible is nothing_ , Ralph quipped, grinning.

 

 _I will what I want._  Ray winked.

 

 _Just do it, do it_. Jared punctuated each word with a hip thrust, because Jared.  

 

Reno just grinned and cracked his knuckles. Cloud supposed it was because the redhead didn’t have a particular preference for sports brands. 

 

The higher level of difficulty just made the mission more interesting to Cloud, its relative similarity to what he’d gone through with AVALANCHE making it feel like familiar ground. He knew it was wrong to adore battle so much, but at the same time he told himself that this was just pretend, no one would die, and this was how he could keep his skills sharp to prepare for what would happen. They only had five more Battle Sims after today until the SOLDIER exams.

 

And less than seven months to Nibelheim.

 

He wasn’t sure exactly what the future held, but he knew that Jenova needed to be taken care of. And if he could get Shinra out of the picture as well, that’d be just peachy. Because then Aeris could come out of hiding proper, could be with Zack, and Vincent and Lucrezia could reunite with each other and Sephiroth.

 

_Still believing in fantasies, huh?_

 

It was Cloud’s ultimate dream: a world where all of them lived happily together. 

 

It was also the one thing Cloud would never let himself hope for. Bad enough the impossible thoughts had started in earnest since Wednesday night. 

 

Last night’s had been different though. Cloud had never felt so happy or at peace. Or so sad when he woke.

 

_Stop thinking about it._

 

Resolutely, he focused on running - he’d discussed the mission with Ray, Reno, and Ralph in private last night while Grant guarded them and Jared enlisted Brian and the three other members of Team Fenrir to distract the rest of their bunker who weren’t part of the team. The discussion hadn’t taken too long - Cloud was ‘fortunate’ to have years of experience backing him up, but more than that it turned out that Ray was a master strategist, while Reno was a sneaky bastard who loved playing dirty (no surprises there). Ralph had been their Devil’s Advocate - the sharpshooting, relatively level-headed (to be fair, everyone was level-headed compared to Cloud) Rocket Town cadet blasting holes in each suggestion until they were confident in their selected strategy. 

 

He knew Ray would’ve spread the word somehow, while Reno and Ralph were preparing themselves for what the mission required of them.

 

Cloud had considered slowing his pace in Crazy Bastards Training this morning, but he rationalized that they would need all the training they could get in order to be more certain of qualifying for SOLDIER. 

 

It didn’t stop Reno from plotting revenge under his breath. 

 

Cloud smirked, upped his pace because that always annoyed Reno, smirked wider when he heard the redhead curse louder. Reno’s next words wiped the smirk off his face though. The future Turk was promising to make sure Cloud wouldn’t be able to walk the rest of the weekend. 

 

_TGIF._

 

Cloud couldn’t wait. Though at the same time he felt torn - he’d met Sephiroth less than 36 hours ago, had touched and spoken to him. The General had known his name, had held his gaze and his hand for longer than necessary, had said he looked forward to welcoming Cloud to SOLDIER. Maybe, just maybe…?

 

_*Snort* What is this? Some stupid final fantasy? Keep dreaming, loser._

 

_Shut up._

 

The voices were at it already, and it wasn’t even 0530. 

 

 _No need to worry your pretty little head over “betraying” Sephiroth_ , the hate-filled voice spat. _He’s probably forgotten you already_. _Go on and let these cadets fuck you like the pathetic little whore you are. Coz that’s all you’ll ever be._

 

Cloud grit his teeth, forced the negativity away. He wasn’t going to let that voice taint the memory of meeting a sane Sephiroth - of having the silver-haired man’s attention focused entirely on him without any killing or sadistic intent. 

 

The General had never noticed him before, in what Cloud had dubbed ‘Version 1.0’, until Cloud had foiled his Jenova-influenced plans.

 

It was different in this ‘Remake’. And Cloud would die before he let this second attempt end up just like before.

 

_Be careful what you wish for._

 

He wished he could Final Heaven the snide voice. He missed Tifa. 

 

The canteen was more tense than usual, teams sitting together whispering and casting furtive glances around them as they attempted to whisper ‘covertly'. The three cadets who were paired with Thirds simply sat around smirking, toasting their impending victory. Cloud couldn’t wait to wipe the smiles off their faces.

 

_Aggro, much?_

 

Cloud wasn’t sure if he wanted to win just for winning’s sake, if he had something to prove, if it was because he felt somewhat responsible for the Three Stooges’ boasts, or if he was secretly hoping a win would cement thoughts of him in a certain handsome General’s mind. 

 

_Who do you think you’re kidding?_

 

He didn’t have time to argue with the voices in his head now. The instructors were filing in, and cadets snapped to attention. Cloud could’ve sworn some had been stabbing cutouts of pancake-Fenrirs, covering them in syrup which he assumed doubled as fake blood. 

 

He accepted the DD form, filled it in while mentally comparing the terse silence that blanketed the hall this morning with the rowdy excitement of last Battle Sims. 

 

He wondered if Sephiroth had known this would happen, had wanted it to happen, pitting cadets against each other in a real-life version of Battle Royale for his sadistic entertainment. 

 

_Stop it. He’s not mad here._

 

_Yet._

 

_Shut UP._

 

He needed to keep himself busy. DD form completed, he rose - his team got up along with him - cleared his tray and headed to the Dome. He wondered if they’d make it there before the blood bath started. Brian looked ready to cry or pass out from all the pressure. 

 

Cloud inspected each pair of goggles carefully before allowing his team to collect their packs. They approached Jeffries - Cloud handing him the clipboard - who looked oddly constipated as he tried to keep a straight face and drop the Proud Papa look.

 

Jeffries handed him a small drawstring pouch. It had a solid weight inside - the key - which was attached via a hook to a chain that was long enough for Cloud to wear around his neck. He didn’t bother checking the contents of the pouch, instantly pulling the chain over his head and saluting the Staff Sergeant, who pointed to Door Three. The burly instructor’s constipation was gone, replaced with a full on broad grin as he waved them off and jogged to where Cloud assumed the Observation Room was. 

 

As Team Fenrir lined up single file before the heavy doors and strapped their helmets on, Cloud mused that without the faint light of the autumn morning filtering in from the slats at the top of the Dome, the deafening silence made it almost like early morn when nothing stirred. While others would have found the silence unnerving, he welcomed the taut, heavy quiet like an old friend - allowed it to feed into every fibre of his being as he inhaled, the crisp cool air swirling in his chest and dispelling the battle haze in his mind. It wouldn’t do to let the pressure get to him, to go Berserk. Theirs was a dangerous plan, and Cloud needed his wits about him.

 

The countdown was starting, every team separated by a klick of circumference. The ‘Dome’, as they called it, was a circular area with a diameter of 4.77 klicks, built beneath SOLDIER grounds, the top of the Dome peeking out above ground to let in natural light through its heavy metal slats. 

 

As the whirring of the motors accompanied the slow closing of the slats, and the disembodied voice informed the cadets that they had one minute till the start of the mission, Ralph started to put their plan into action. 

 

**Step 1: Keep Calm & Carry On.**

 

“I have a pen,” the black haired cadet started to murmur. Cloud didn’t need to look to know he was shaking his hips. “I have an apple."

 

From the shocked silence that accompanied the Rocket Towner’s breathy singing, Cloud knew their plan was going well.

 

Jared jumped in, because he was really good at this bit. “UH!” 

 

The blond made everything dirty.

 

Ray and Reno snickered. Somehow Ralph managed to keep his voice steady. “Apple pen!”

 

Brian’s voice was shaky and slightly hoarse. “…wha…wha…what are y-y-you doing?”

 

Ralph ignored him. “I have a pen…”

 

“I have a pineapple,” Ray had gotten himself under control long enough to play his part.

 

Jared jumped in gleefully. “UH!!!!”

 

“Pineapple pen!” Reno chortled/yelled.

 

“Apple pen…” the three cadets chorused in tandem, Grant beating out a rhythm on some poor soul's helmet. 

 

“Pineapple pen…” Grant and the other three cadets had joined in as Cloud struggled not to give in to his urge to turn around and watch them dance like the weird leopard-print man.

 

“UH!!!” That…wasn’t just Jared. Cloud was very proud of his self-control. He dearly wanted to look at Brian’s face right now.

 

“Pen Pineapple Apple Pen!” 

 

Cloud was positive the snort hadn’t come from him. Because he was Two Time Guardian of the Galaxy (which should have allowed him to charge a premium, though he did everything for free) and an Adult, thank you very much. No sir, the snort must have definitely come from Brian, who had progressed from attempting to stifle his giggles to laughing hysterically as the rest of the team continued their yowly rendition of PPAP.

 

**Status of Step 1: Success.**

 

“Ten seconds to mission start.” 

 

Cloud smirked. 

 

_Let the Games begin._

 

##

 

**Step 2: On My Cue.**

 

Reno opened his eyes after counting to five as they’d planned, his eyes adjusting to the dark easier than most thanks to a lifetime of living under the Plate. Granted, the garish neon lights, haphazard lanterns and cramped spaces made sure it was never totally dark in the slums, but Reno was used to navigating around tight, cluttered spaces without a lamp or a candle. Those things cost money and gave your position away. Might as well hold a bright red ‘X’ over his head and ask to be robbed, raped and killed.

 

They descended into the Dome proper in single file, one hand on the shoulder of the cadet before them. At the base of the stairs, they fanned out into a pyramid formation. Reno could hear the rustling as Cloud, Ray, Grant, Brian and three others snapped their night vision goggles on. As discussed, he, Ralph and Jared would not wear the goggles - they’d keep a hand on their partners' shoulders (Reno with Cloud, Ralph with Ray, and Jared with Brian) and keep their eyes peeled for the slightest hint of glowing eyes and/or gunfire. Despite their guns being equipped only with paint pallets, they’d been modified to simulate the muzzle flashes created by actual bullets when fired in order to make the simulation more realistic.

 

Cloud hummed lightly - their signal - and Team Fenrir started to move. Reno credited his intimate knowledge of Cloud’s body for the way he synced his movements so naturally with the blond. He’d always thought that Trust Falls were for needy dumb saps who wanted proof that someone actually gave a shit about them. Reno would never have allowed himself to rely so fully on another person before.

 

_Then again, I know Blondie inside and out. Literally._

 

Goddammit. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

 

He wasn’t about to fall over because his Nightstick was waking up. That’d be lame beyond measure.

 

And Reno was NEVER lame. That was Brian’s territory. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long they walked for, but suddenly Cloud hummed twice in a staccato beat. They were nearing another team.

 

Game on.

 

**Status of Step 2: Success.**

 

Reno would have grinned if Cloud hadn’t ordered all of them to keep their mouths shut. It was the first time he’d ever been told having good teeth was bad. 

 

He was proud of his teeth. It wasn’t often someone from the slums had a full set that wasn’t rotting or rotten. 

 

_My, what big teeth you have._

 

_All the better to eat you with, my dears._

 

Reno would grin all day once this was over.

 

##

 

Zack raised his eyebrows and whistled as he watched Cloud’s team take down their first opponents within a minute of the simulation beginning, the other team not having expected anyone to reach them so soon and still fooling around with their goggles. 

 

_Kids._

 

Zack grinned as Cloud tossed this team’s pouch and key to Ray, who put it around his neck and nodded. He had a feeling he knew what game Cloud and his team were playing, why three of their own weren’t wearing the goggles, and he approved very much.

 

Then again, there was very little about Cloud he didn’t approve of. 

 

The black haired man shifted in his seat, winced slightly as his back twinged from the movement, didn’t miss Sephiroth’s small self-satisfied smirk out of the corner of his eye.

 

_Laugh it up, old man._

 

It had been worth it though - being dragged out of bed and into the training hall by Sephiroth at Stupid O'Clock yesterday so that the General could beat him to a pulp for his little “stunt” with Cloud. Zack knew, deep down, that it had been the right thing to do - that it was worth every pain and sacrifice. Seeing the silver-haired man standing before the blond, not wanting to let go of each other’s hands, staring into each others’ eyes like it was the only world they knew...

 

_Perfect._

 

Thinking back now, Zack wanted to pat himself on the back again for how flawlessly he had pulled it off. Intelligence had submitted their report on Sephiroth’s and Zack’s findings from the Northern Crater at 0900 Monday as ordered - however, that report had raised more questions than it answered, so the General had requested a second, more in-depth report to be submitted to him by 2000 Tuesday. 

 

When Zack heard about it on Monday afternoon, he knew that meant that the General would be submitting his complete report 0830 Wednesday. From experience, Zack knew that the mad Frankenstein would read the report and slither in during lunch to “check up on” the General - who always ate lunch at his desk and who couldn’t claim to be too busy to entertain the psychotic scientist - which meant that Sephiroth would leave the office at 1930 (instead of his usual 2200) to head home and relax in front of the TV. 

 

So he’d asked Cloud and his friends to come over on Wednesday at 1830, and after the snake had slithered off their floor he’d snuck into Sephiroth’s apartment Wednesday afternoon and stolen the DVD, timed the food and conversation (and stuffing Cloud with fluids) so that Cloud would need to hit the head by 2000, by which time the General would have gotten home, begun to change out of his suit, realized his copy of Sherlock was missing and barged into Zack’s apartment to get it.

 

Only a madman would get between Sephiroth and his TV time. 

 

Then again, only a madman would become a SOLDIER.

 

_Catch-22._

 

And it had gone down like clockwork. Right down to Sephiroth using the obnoxious yellow hair tie Zack had left on the coffee table in place of the DVD. The dark haired First had bought the hair tie because it reminded him of Cloud’s brilliant spikes - had wanted Sephiroth to wear it so he’d imagine his silver mane around Cloud's blond hair, and so he'd seem slightly more approachable - slightly more human, just a little more Man than Myth. 

 

Zack wondered if the silver haired man knew just how predictable he was, how easy he was to read. 

 

Wondered if his friend now realized exactly why Zack’s codename was ‘Wolf'. 

 

He smirked, focused on watching Cloud and his friends creep up on another team and take them out using a combination of their in-class and private training repertoires.

 

_Like taking candy from a baby._

 

##

 

**Step 3: Kill The Fleas.**

 

_Was it supposed to be this easy?_

 

Ralph had adjusted to the darkness quickly. On nights when clouds blocked the twinkling of the stars and the moon decided to go dark, Rocket Town was pitch black once everyone had gone to bed and the street lamps were turned off due to erratic power surges at night having blown through too many. Something about the town's altitude and position so near the Nibelheim reactor making them prone to electrical issues.

 

What they didn’t know was that Ralph was the one causing the surges with his...experiments. 

 

So sue him, but Uncle Cid wouldn’t let him tinker around much during the day. 

 

Ralph had grown up in darkness. It was a comforting weight - reminding him of sneaking around Uncle Cid’s rocket and crawling through pipes like Newt in Alien, imagining he was hunting monsters that were trying to take over the Planet. 

 

It was a familiar weight - like hiding in the crawlspace as Wutaians stormed through on the way to Midgar, as Shinra’s grunts ransacked homes for any enemies the locals might be hiding, as gangbangers searched for the punk who’d left their asses in the dust in the Races and then banged their chicks while they struggled home injured and on foot.

 

Cloud hummed twice again, which meant they were coming up behind another group of ‘fleas’, as they had termed any team without Thirds. The blond had protested such a derogatory term being applied to other cadets, but Reno had airily assured him it was all in good fun. Cloud still hadn’t been convinced, so Ray and Ralph had had to step in to promise that it was just a codeword, and they were only trying to make every step rhyme so that it’d be easier for everyone to remember the instructions. 

 

Boss-man was way too sweet for his own good.

 

_And way too hot in bed._

 

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini._

 

If Ralph’s little rocket decided to blast off and give them away now, he’d never live it down.

 

Just like Uncle Cid had never lived down the aborted space mission. 

 

Ralph wasn’t going to think about that now - not the chain-smoking, the alcoholism, the manic-depressive and borderline…disorders of his favorite (and only) uncle, nothing. He was on a mission with his friends, and they had something to prove.

 

HE had something to prove. To himself. To Uncle Cid. To them. 

 

To her.

 

Ray dipped his shoulder, a signal to Ralph that the pair was less than three feet from their prey. The black-haired cadet tightened his grip slightly on his friend to show he understood, bent his knees and trusted the son of the Godfather to lead him right to the flea.

 

It was over in seconds. Ralph supposed he had Jeffries to thank for it, but he was permanently aching from private training, and his still-healing lip meant hard kisses were out of the question. 

 

He’d have to get Ray back for it before Battle Sims was over.

 

_'Accident’, my ass._

 

Who did the Junon brat think he was kidding? Ralph was from Rocket Town, not Nibelheim. 

 

Ray slipped a chain over Ralph’s head, the black-haired cadet not reacting to the sudden touch thanks to all the time he’d spent with Ray since they’d started cadet training. They were a little too familiar with each other, but he couldn’t be worrying over things like propriety now - not when he was chasing stars. 

 

_Better bi than bipolar, anyway._

 

If it was Ralph’s turn to carry a key, that meant they were moving to the next stage of the plan.

 

He supposed that was about right, given this was the third team they'd taken down. 

 

**Status of Step 3: Success.**

 

He smirked.

 

_Bye, Felicia._

 

##

 

**Step 4: Work The Floor.**

 

As planned, Team Fenrir split up into two groups - one led by Cloud, the other by Ray - and began to search for other fleas to incite.

 

Cloud really didn’t agree with that moniker, but he knew it was in the spirit of the Games. 

 

It still stung, even though it wasn’t him who was being called a flea right now.

 

_Focus!_

 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Battle Sims started. To make the simulation more realistic, no announcements were being made - downed teams weren’t allowed to move, speak or signal (Cloud felt a little sorry for the cadets they’d taken out already - it wouldn’t be fun “playing dead” for hours unable to pee or drink water), and no one knew who was down and who wasn’t in order to keep them on their toes. 

 

As planned, they had taken out three teams, leaving them facing a maximum of 11 remaining enemy teams, including the one with the Thirds. Team Fenrir now had a total of four keys - the chances of them having a matching set were slim. The chances of them having the “right” set were slimmer. Ray had been calculating permutations and combinations - Reno had scowled at the brunette and told him to stuff it.

 

Cloud and Ray were working on the assumption that the team with the three Thirds would be hunting for Team Fenrir in order to prove a point - which meant that that team would be aggressively scouring the Dome taking down any cadets they met. Hence Reno, Ralph and Jared functioning as “lookouts” - keeping their eyes goggle-free in order to better spot the tell-tale Mako glow of SOLDIERs. Ray was counting on the SOLDIERs being too proud to rely on goggles, believing the Thirds wanted to be able to earn full bragging rights by not depending on any equipment to take on cadets. Cloud had to admit the brunette’s reasoning made sense. 

 

So here they were, Team Fenrir, looking for rival cadets to lead to the Thirds. Let the SOLDIERs take care of them, Ray had reasoned. Cloud agreed - they had to conserve their bullets and strength. Who knew how long Battle Sims would take?

 

He spotted movement up ahead, hummed twice, felt Reno’s grip tighten on his shoulder. Inwardly he was surprised at how easily the redhead had acquiesced to effectively “going blind” in the Dome, how easy it was to lead Reno through the arena. 

 

He supposed it had something to do with their leisure activities. 

 

_Stop it stop it stop it._

 

It wouldn’t do to get a boner now. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

 

_There!_

 

The enemy team was just up ahead. Cloud hummed twice - a long pulse followed by a short staccato - and Reno gripped his bicep tight a split second before Cloud started running. 

 

They swerved near the enemy team before heading to the rendezvous point. Behind them they could hear the yells from the enemy cadets as Team Fenrir zig-zagged across the arena, drawing the attention of nearby teams and (Cloud hoped) the team with the Thirds. 

 

Reno hummed three times. 

 

He’d spotted the Thirds. 

 

_Bingo._

 

The redhead pushed Cloud’s arm towards the left, indicating the Thirds were coming from the right. Cloud gestured to the others, sped up, angled left, saw Ray’s team headed towards them, angling to their right as Ralph had also seen the Thirds, saw the enemy cadets chasing after his friends.

 

The two halves of Team Fenrir recombined, and they were off, darting around walls and fallen structures, hearing the cries of the “dead” and “wounded”.

 

**Status of Step 4: Success.**

 

Cloud smirked.

 

_Too easy._

 

##

 

**Step 5: Survive.**

 

_Showtime._

 

Reno was surprised at how easy it was to follow Cloud’s lead, the blond having wrapped his right arm around Reno’s waist in order to better lead the redhead through the tight turns and sharp corners of the fake shelled-out homes they were running through. The stupid packs they were carrying were keeping them from being as quick as they would have been, but Reno knew it was All In The Name of Training.

 

Which was exactly why he wanted to be a Turk. Those badass suits never carried a bloody campsite on their backs. They were too cool for that shit. 

 

Reno hated baggage. He had enough of it. 

 

As planned, Team Fenrir had split up again and was darting around columns and broken walls, those with goggles on firing at targets in order to add pressure to enemy cadets and throw their aim off. Ralph, Reno and Jared had it tougher - based on muzzle flares, they had to estimate where enemies were and aim accordingly. Reno was just firing wildly and hoping he didn’t hit anyone from his team. He wasn’t the sharpshooter - Ralph was. Jared was pretty handy with guns as well, Reno recalled, but the blond seemed to be handy with everything. 

 

Cloud was the same way.

 

Blonds really did have more fun.

 

Next to him Cloud was crouching, so Reno crouched too and hoped he wouldn’t slam his face into any jutting pipe or concrete. He needn’t have worried - he knew Cloud was watching out for him - but old habits died hard. 

 

The blond was firing in staccato beats straight ahead, so Reno followed suit. He had no idea if he was hitting anything, but he really wanted to hit someone.

 

_Yippee-ka-yay, motherfuckers._

 

He spotted the tell-tale Mako glows, hummed thrice, and Cloud was back on his feet dodging structures and bullets, guiding Reno through to the other end of this location to rendezvous with the rest of the team as planned. 

 

It never ceased to amaze Reno how the blond’s memory was so absolutely perfect. 

 

He supposed he ought to pay more attention in Navigation class. To him maps were still random squiggles, though he got the gist of most icons and lines. But Cloud…the blond seemed to be able to read every story each map told, figure out its secrets in a split second.

 

Yet another piece of the puzzle that was Cloud Strife.

 

No time to think about that now. A paint pellet had just whizzed past Reno’s helmet. 

 

He could hear more yells from cadets, cries of pain from being hit with paint pellets. As both halves of Team Fenrir rendezvoused, Cloud nudged Reno lightly and turned slightly to allow the redhead a better look behind them.

 

Reno squeezed the blond’s waist slightly, hadn’t realized he’d also started holding on to Cloud like this. He chalked their synchronization up to all their leisure activities.

 

The sight of glowing Mako eyes barely 30 feet away kicked any lecherous thoughts out of his head.

 

He hummed thrice, thankful he still had enough wits about him not to full on yell and give them away. Thank goodness they hadn’t given Brian lookout duty.

 

Cloud tapped Reno lightly and they sprinted away from the Thirds. As Reno turned his head slightly to watch, he saw Mako eyes dip slightly, turn away from them as more enemy cadets stumbled upon the Thirds. 

 

**Status of Step 5: Success.**

 

_This is how we do it._

 

##

 

**Step 6: Pick Up Sticks.**

 

Ray crouched low, peeking over the top of the trench he and Ralph had ducked into. Everything was going according to plan so far but he couldn’t get careless. 

 

Women and children could be careless. Not him.

 

Peering through the distorted green world that was their night vision, he watched as the Thirds stooped over the bodies of “fallen” cadets, sweeping for keys. Distantly, he wondered where the three cadets who’d been paired with these Thirds were. 

 

One of the Thirds was squatting, sifting through keys, while the other two stood guard. As planned, Team Fenrir would watch to see if the Thirds had completed the “correct” disc. If they couldn’t, that meant either Cloud was wearing one piece, or another team of cadets somewhere in this arena (with its multiple floors and platforms) had it. If the Thirds moved away with a finished disc, Team Fenrir would trail them to the control room - if the Thirds still had to look for keys, Team Fenrir would pick up the discarded keys and hunt down other teams in order to form sets to (hopefully) open the areas with the twenty enemy Thirds to let SOLDIERs take on SOLDIERs. 

 

The Third who was squatting stood, gestured to the other two. It seemed they didn’t have a completed disc. Which meant that Team Fenrir needed to go hunting. 

 

Ray kept his breaths even, slow. Without the noise of the gunfire, and the yells of the other cadets, there was a chance the Thirds would hear their breathing.

 

He’d learned to minimize his presence as a child, sneaking through the Manor in order to eavesdrop on conversations between his father and the Family’s administration, between his father and the Shinra President; evading his handlers in order to explore the world beyond their walls. 

 

The only time he’d ever been caught was when he’d stumbled upon Jared. The blond had been stick thin and filthy then, living on the streets without any place to sleep or bathe, little more than a feral creature hating what he had to do for food, hating that there were people in the world who got off on a child going down on them. 

 

It was the look in those forest green eyes that had captured Ray’s attention, made his heart ache for another for the first time in his short life. 

 

He was drawn from his reverie when the Thirds moved away, stayed completely still for ten more seconds after he could no longer see them, turned to look at Cloud. Despite the helmets and goggles obscuring their identities - which was why none of them spoke, so as not to be recognized by the Thirds as Team Fenrir - Ray somehow always knew where to find Cloud. All of them did. The blond was the smallest of the lot, but commanded attention and respect on the battlefield. It was as natural as breathing.

 

Cloud gestured, Ray nodded to show he’d understood, then grabbed Ralph’s bicep as they rose slowly, creeping up to where the Thirds had left the remaining keys on the ground while the others covered them. 

 

There were four keys discarded on the ground. Coupled with the four that Team Fenrir had, and the two that the Thirds had, that meant there were five other teams in play. And it also meant that either Cloud’s key was the final piece of the correct disc, or one of the other teams had it.

 

Ray picked the keys up, headed back to the trench. It was time to see which of the nine they now had would fit together before they moved on to the next step. 

 

**Status of Step 6: Success.**

 

Ray allowed himself a small smirk. 

 

_Too easy._

 

##

 

Sephiroth knew the Godfather’s son probably had something to do with how flawless the team’s strategy was. This growing bias he had for Cl…STRIFE was worrying. As General, he had to remain objective, impartial, couldn’t let anything distort his impression of the facts. Keeping a cool head was a matter of life and death. 

 

Yet here he was, feeling that…proud…feeling again while watching Strife and his team. What the cadets didn’t know was that the instructors had tagged all vests with specific markers - as soon as Strife and his team had put theirs on, Zack had matched names and numbers with figures on the screen in the Observation Room. No need to wonder which orange-red bodies on the infrared running around were the Thirds - they had opted not to wear helmets, and were moving in a distinctly SOLDIER manner that Sephiroth would have fired them for not having. 

 

He had figured out Team Fenrir’s strategy while watching them, had wanted to nod in approval but the presence of Zack and all the instructors in the room kept him from reacting. He had a reputation to maintain, after all.

 

Beside him, Zack was cheering Strife on. Sephiroth wanted to throw the First into a wall again. 

 

He felt the corner of his lip twitch slightly at the memory. While ‘training’ with Zack hadn’t stopped the thoughts of the blond cadet filling his head, flinging the black haired First into the wall fifteen times had been wonderfully cathartic. It probably explained why last night’s dream hadn’t been an…exciting one. 

 

Sephiroth hadn’t gotten a good rest Wednesday night, had barely been able to focus on Sherlock. The latter alone was enough to fuel his agitation, but the way he’d kept thinking about Strife, the way thoughts and images of the blond - panting, flushed, wanting him; angry, hurt, hating him; smiling, touching, kissing him - had flooded his mind, he’d almost placed a call for the Disney Princesses. Only the thought of the damage to his reputation - calling for prostitutes at 0230 - had stilled his hand. He’d refused to pleasure himself, wanting to hold on to some semblance of self-control while he was awake. He’d fallen asleep at last at 0400, and had woken up sticky at 0420. 

 

He hadn’t bothered going back to bed after cleaning up, opting to hit the practice room and take his agitation out on virtual enemies. Fighting had always cleared his mind, yet this time thoughts of Strife continued to plague him. 

 

At 0600, he’d stormed into Zack’s apartment and dragged the First out of bed and to the training arena to have his revenge. It had helped somewhat, and Sephiroth had looked forward to a good sleep that night.

 

It had been the most wonderful rest he'd ever recalled having. Not that it’d been dream-free, no. He’d dreamt of Strife again, but this time it had been just the two of them lying in a field of flowers that seemed to undulate in gentle waves, Strife’s blond head on Sephiroth’s chest as the silver-haired man’s arm wrapped around the smaller body, just breathing, smiling, peaceful, content...happy.

 

He’d woken up feeling better than he’d ever felt. But also - and he’d been shocked to realize - sad. 

 

He was pretty sure it was sorrow he’d felt. The emotion was similar to what he’d felt when Angeal and Genesis had left. 

 

Thinking about his friends brought on the usual pang in his chest. Sephiroth wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he missed them.

 

They’d been the first people to treat him as one of them - not a freak, a specimen, an asset, a weapon - just another person, just like them. They’d been the first to interact with him without any sadistic or scientific, cruel or calculating intent. 

 

They were the very first friends he’d had. The only friends he’d ever had, until he’d lost them and Zack had barged into his life all boisterous bouncing and obnoxious orchestrations.

 

A part of Sephiroth, a very small part, was grateful for all the havoc the First caused. It didn’t allow him much time or space to dwell on his loss.

 

_We have all lost._

 

He knew that better than most. Before coming to the Observation Room today he’d been in the office signing letters to parents of four fallen SOLDIERs, taken down by a suicide bomber masquerading as a pregnant civilian. His men had been trying to help the lady evacuate. Had gotten blown to bits for their efforts.

 

_Stop thinking about it._

 

If he allowed the thoughts to fester, the emotions to twist within him, he’d go mad. He’d sent too many men to their deaths, watched too many die for something they probably didn’t believe in. 

 

He couldn't allow himself to grieve, to break. He had to be strong for everyone else. If he didn't do it, who would?

 

He wondered if he was the first General in history who wanted so desperately to be out of a job - for there to be no more wars, no more fighting, so that SOLDIERs and trained killers would be obsolete.

 

So that all the pain they had caused would be nothing but a memory. 

 

_Idiot._

 

That voice sounded like Angeal's - fond, exasperated, gruff, melancholic. 

 

They’d had this conversation before, when Sephiroth had been younger, only a Lieutenant at the time. When he’d seen the fiancée of one of his men wail and beat the bloody chest of her dead lover, begging him to wake up and keep his promise to come home safe. It had been the first time he’d seen one of the “left behind”, since only Mortuary Affairs was required to attend to them - but he’d been on his way to drinks with Angeal (they were sneaking out the back to avoid Genesis, who wanted to watch Loveless AGAIN) when he’d seen the family members collecting what remained of fallen SOLDIERs.

 

He’d learned a valuable lesson that day. That the men he led were putting their lives in his hands. That he had a duty to get them home safe - to their parents, their children, their siblings, their lovers, their friends. To all those who waited - trying to be strong, trying to have hope. 

 

For the first time in his life, he’d hated the sword. Wished the pen were truly mightier. Wished it’d been him lying on the cold sheet instead of the man that the bereft young woman had planned to spend the rest of her life with. 

 

Before that, he’d risen through the ranks based on sheer fighting ability alone - deaths were just statistics, kills were a scorecard for him to tally his points, like one of those video games he’d seen Zack play. 

 

Before that, the Way of the Sword was the only thing he’d ever known. Kill or be killed. 

 

 _You are the Angel of Death,_ Hojo had told him since as far back as he could remember. _You were born to be the greatest killer the world has ever seen._

 

He’d thought that that was it - his purpose, who he was. All he was. 

 

He’d changed in that moment. Begun to form a new set of operating principles while Angeal helped him deal with what he’d just witnessed over copious amounts of whisky and sake.

 

As much as Angeal was a genetically modified super soldier, the burly dark-haired man had also been the most ‘human' of the trio. Sephiroth wondered if it had something to do with Angeal growing up poor. Genesis’ head was always in the clouds thanks to his wealthy upbringing; Sephiroth was always closed off from the world, always looking out of his oversized test tube and observation cell. 

 

No matter how hard he tried to pretend he was normal, the fact remained that there was always a glass wall between him and everyone else.

 

He pushed his men hard, he knew. Was strict with them, demanding. But it was so that they might live to see their loved ones. Maybe, just maybe, that one extra hour in training would result in a split second reaction that saved their lives, brought them home. 

 

He would never know if that was the case. But what he did know was that since he’d become General, the rate of growth in the number of fallen SOLDIERs had slowed. Either his strategies were more effective, or the men had gotten better. 

 

It certainly wasn’t because their enemies had weakened. He knew that better than anyone - report after report was on his desk every day, call after call from Intelligence and SOLDIERs in the field, the cries of the dead and dying a permanent background.

 

He wanted this war to end. He wanted his SOLDIERs to live happy lives with their loved ones. 

 

He knew he needed to win in order to make that a reality. 

 

And Sephiroth knew that he would willingly die in order that the others might live. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for him at home, anyone to keep promises to, anyone to cry by his corpse. 

 

Was there? 

 

_Zack would._

 

He didn’t want that. The spiky haired second-in-command had lost enough as well, overcompensated with sex, alcohol, sugar and all manner of stupidity. 

 

All SOLDIERs found a way to cope. They had to. 

 

Sephiroth wondered how Cloud would cope.

 

_STRIFE. His name is STRIFE._

 

 _His name is CLOUD Strife_ , a snide voice sassed.

 

Clapping from Zack startled him back to the present, though he showed no outward signs of it. He’d become very adept at pretending to pay attention while in the labs - as scientist after scientist took samples, touched him, prodded, poked, injected, experimented…he’d escaped into his mind, to a place no one could reach. 

 

On the screens, Strife’s team was running amok - those wearing keys acting as lures while one of them, the burly walking boulder, threw a flashbang at where a team of enemy cadets were hiding behind a wall. Sephiroth wondered why no other team had thought to use their own stun grenades until now - though the flashbangs were classified as a less lethal weapon, the instructors had modified these to reduce the effects on cadets. No one wanted cadets going blind or deaf in Battle Sims. 

 

Strife’s team had swiped flashbangs from every team they’d taken out, from the teams the Thirds had taken out, which meant they had plenty. And they were clearly unafraid of using it now that the time for subterfuge was apparently over.

 

He knew why the Thirds had refused to use theirs, would inform their CO to speak to them about their arrogance.

 

In the resulting confusion after the Corel boy’s stun grenade detonated, the Godfather’s son and Strife took out all the disoriented enemy cadets, with the blond swiping the key off the fallen team’s CO and handing it to the Junon cadet. 

 

From the images, it seemed the taller boy had pieced together another disc, bringing Team Fenrir’s total count to three completed discs. 

 

If Strife and his friends were doing what Sephiroth thought they were, they still had at least an hour to go before winning Battle Sims.

 

And a lot could happen in an hour.

 

Sephiroth shouldn’t want Strife to win, should be impartial. He was the General, for God’s sake. Not some silly fangirl or cheerleader.

 

_Denial ain’t a river, Seph._

 

The silver-haired man slammed the disembodied voice, so very much like Zack’s, into a mental wall. He’d really been spending too much time with the hedgehog. 

 

He hoped Cloud didn’t get taken down. The blond was wearing the final part of the disc that opened the control room. Sephiroth had made sure of it.

 

 _Ngawww…you gave Cloudy the key to your heart?_ Zack had cooed this morning when they’d been alone in the Observation Room, waiting for instructors to enter after distributing keys to the cadets.

 

Jeffries had walked in before Sephiroth could throw the black-haired nuisance into a wall.

 

He liked to think he wasn’t a violent man by nature. But Zack needed some sense slammed into him sometimes. 

 

That and he needed to be knocked off his high horse. The First had been entirely too smug since his little stunt.

 

Sephiroth knew just how to wipe that smirk off his second-in-command’s face. Someone was going on weekend duty.

 

_Boom._

 

##

 

**Step 7: Unforgiven.**

 

It was Chaos.

 

As planned, Team Fenrir was running wild - flinging stun grenades while trying not to blind or deafen themselves, firing randomly, slamming enemy cadets into the ground and into walls. Cloud wondered why no other team had thought to use the flashbangs - Ray had deduced the Thirds wouldn’t out of pride, but they’d assumed the other teams would. The mission brief last night had made clear that these stun grenades were modified to reduce any impact to cadets, which meant that only those wearing goggles would have their vision impaired temporarily (which was another reason why three of Team Fenrir had gone goggle-free for so long) and the noise would only be enough to disorient mildly for several seconds. 

 

Not that the blond was complaining. He didn’t enjoy the effects of stun grenades. They reminded him of Hojo’s experiments.

 

_Stop thinking about it._

 

After successfully collecting two more keys and managing to complete three discs, Cloud, Ray and Reno had split from the rest of the group, heading to where the heavy doors were, to try to open whichever they could. They had three discs - which meant they’d be able to open at least one area with the enemy Thirds. 

 

Reno was humming next to him. 

 

Cloud didn’t bother turning back to check, knew Ralph and Jared would have stepped in to buy Team Fenrir's vanguards time to open whichever doors they could, trusting his teammates to disorient the Thirds enough that the SOLDIERs would either run into a blank wall, boobytrapped maze, or into enemy Thirds. 

 

_C’mon c’mon c’mon…_

 

Ray was trying another disk on the door in front of them. It clicked, motors whirring from somewhere inside. 

 

_Let’s mosey!_

 

The trio ran to the next door, Ray attempting to open it while Cloud and Reno kept watch. No one came out of the previous doorway they’d opened. Which meant it was either the blank wall or the boobytrapped maze. Cloud would wonder later at the amount of faith he had in his fellow cadets, relying on them to lead the Thirds to slaughter without him.

 

This door didn’t open - which meant there was a 50% chance this led to the control room. 

 

They ran to the next door, Cloud taking out two enemy cadets who had chanced upon them, Reno still looking out for Thirds and muzzle flares. 

 

A click, and they dashed to the next door, Cloud keeping an arm around the redhead as they scrambled over boulders and hoisted themselves up to the next platform. 

 

Peering below him, he saw Jared and Brian running towards a doorway with a Third hot on their heels. Cloud took aim, but the Third received a shot to the side of his face, stumbling, before the blond could squeeze the trigger. 

 

_Damn._

 

Ralph really was a crackshot. The black-haired cadet hadn’t yet put his goggles on, must have estimated where the Third was based purely on Mako glow. 

 

Cloud knew it took some serious skill to be able to anticipate where your moving opponent would be. He could do it with his blades, but he’d never really liked guns.

 

They were far too crude. Not that he’d ever let Vincent or Barrett know. 

 

Brian had his index finger extended above his helmet while running back towards the melee with Jared. 

 

That door had led to a blank wall. 

 

Reno was humming with urgency. That meant Thirds were spilling out through the door they’d opened prior to the one Ray was trying to unlock now.

 

A click, and the trio scrambled to the side of the platform, ducked around the corner. Cloud peered out carefully, counted to ten.

 

No one was coming - that meant this was the boobytrapped maze. 

 

Which meant that the door they’d failed to open earlier led either to the control room or to the remaining ten enemy SOLDIER Thirds. 

 

So far so good. The key Cloud was wearing hadn’t fit any of the other keys they’d picked up - so his was part of either the control room set or the remaining SOLDIER Thirds set. 

 

He wasn’t sure if he was hoping his key led to the control room. Didn’t want to think about the possibility that the General had specifically ensured he’d receive it.

 

_Enough with the wishful thinking, idiot._

 

He willed himself back to the present, tapped Reno on the shoulder. The redhead pulled his goggles on - the time for subterfuge was over. The time for the bloodbath was now.

 

Ralph had suggested the name for this step. Cloud wondered again if the Rocket Towner was related to his cranky friend back in the future. 

 

Cid had always loved his Westerns. And Unforgiven was one of his favorites.

 

They jumped back into the fray, Reno taking out a cadet even before his feet had touched the ground.

 

**Status of Step 7: Success.**

 

_Anybody don’t wanna get killed, better head on out the back._

 

##

 

**Step 8: Infiltrate.**

 

Reno kept his breathing measured and low as he snuck up on the Third carrying the two keys for the control room, who was currently hiding from his ten comrades that Team Fenrir had just unleashed. He didn’t need to look to know that Jared was advancing from his two o’clock, Cloud and Ray approaching from his seven o’clock, Ralph acting as their sniper from four o’clock and Grant getting ready to tackle the Third to the ground from ten o'clock.

 

It was slightly comical, and a little insulting, that they needed six of them in order to stand a chance against a single Third.

 

Ralph fired - their signal - and everyone sprung into action. Grant charged the Third, who had spun to where the shot had come from (Ralph hadn’t had a clean line of sight) and was therefore blindsided by the Corel boy’s takedown. Reno, Jared, Cloud and Ray had rushed in at the same time - the redhead wasn’t sure whose shots had hit, but from what he could see through the goggles the Third’s face was covered in bioluminescent paint.

 

_Damn, that’s gotta hurt._

 

Cloud grabbed the keys off the SOLDIER as they darted away, Ralph covering them and keeping the enemy Thirds at bay long enough for Team Fenrir to regroup. 

 

Once hidden behind a boulder, Cloud passed the two keys to Ray, who fit them with Cloud’s key to form a disc.

 

_Shit’s about to get turnt!_

 

This was it. The disc that would let them into the control room. Cloud gestured, Ray reaching out to tap the cadets keeping guard as the blond started the count down.

 

Reno couldn’t recall feeling this excited in a long time. 

 

When Cloud dropped his hand, Team Fenrir sprung into action, firing away and sprinting towards the door Ray hadn’t been able to open earlier. Reno held his breath as he knelt, firing at a pair of Thirds who were attempting to take aim at them. 

 

The Thirds ducked - Reno knew he wouldn’t be able to hit them from this distance. His intention had only been to stop them from getting a bead on his team mates.

 

He told himself that it was only because he had to make nice with others while in cadet training.

 

A tap on his shoulder and Reno nodded to show he’d understood, moved to his right.

 

The disc had worked - this door was opening. 

 

No one knew what awaited them en route to the control room. None of them believed it would be a clear path, but nothing had been disclosed in the mission brief. It was all in the name of Realism, Reno knew. SOLDIERs never had perfect information - no matter how hard their Intelligence or the Turks tried, there would always be shit they didn’t know. 

 

Ray called it Variables. The Junon kid liked his math a bit too much. 

 

Reno wondered how many SOLDIERs the General would throw at them. 

 

_Bring it._

 

Nothing happened. 

 

Cloud had placed a hand on Reno’s shoulder and the redhead rose, pressed back-to-back with the blond as Reno guarded their rear. It was a good thing one member of each pair was keeping a lookout - more and more Thirds were starting to converge on them as Team Fenrir moved towards the control room, uncertain as to what lay ahead.

 

They kept themselves low as they moved in. Reno saw the enemy Thirds coming towards them, crouched low and moving in perfect formation, knew Team Fenrir would be set upon soon if they didn’t do something.

 

Cloud suddenly yanked him to ground, just in time to avoid pellets being fired at them in rapid succession. 

 

Startled, Reno saw the approaching Thirds diving for cover as Cloud dragged him to the side. Twisting, he saw several machines approaching on metal limbs from further down the corridor.

 

“The machines are attacking! The machines are attacking!”

 

Reno wondered if Ray was going to split Ralph’s lip again. 

 

As it was, Cloud had lifted the moratorium, the blond himself yelling instructions at the rest of the team. 

 

Jared was firing at the machines as Brian kept his gun trained on the doorway, watching their backs with three other cadets as ordered. It was a good thing too - a Third taking aim at Cloud received a paint pellet in his cake hole. 

 

_Booyah._

 

Reno doubted Brian’s aim was that good. Kid had probably gotten lucky. 

 

_For the first and only time in his life._

 

He got to his knees, pressed against the wall as much as he could with the stupid pack on his back. Cloud was already moving, advancing forward, so Reno followed. 

 

He wondered if the machines were programmed to “play dead”, didn’t have to wonder long as Cloud fired on one of them, the “hit” machine powering down in the middle of the corridor and blocking its fellow machines from moving forward further.

 

_Never send a machine to do a human’s job._

 

Reno placed a hand on Cloud’s shoulder, the blond dashing forward as soon as he felt the redhead’s palm. Together, they darted ahead, dodging the still-firing machine that led the pack, kneeling between the legs of the immobile member of the Heavy Metal Squad while they took aim at the rest of the lumbering instruments of Death by Paint. 

 

As Reno kept firing, Cloud turned back, yelled at the others to begin their advance. The machine the pair had evaded still hadn’t noticed two cadets had slipped past. Or maybe it had bigger fish to fry. Reno wondered how many Thirds were still in the game.

 

Team Fenrir moved in stages - leapfrogging in pairs and shooting at machines until only the one that had led the pack remained, unknowingly functioning as their guard against enemy teams and SOLDIERs. They approached a doorway, Cloud signalling to Ray and Jared who took up positions on either side while Ralph swung the door open. Cloud and Reno took aim, saw nothing, moved in and cleared the room before Cloud called out to the others. 

 

The rest of the cadets filed in, Grant shutting the door and pushing a table against it.

 

**Status of Step 8: Success.**

 

Reno couldn’t wait for this to be over. He needed a drink.

 

_TGIF._

 

##

 

“C’mon guys! Almost there!” 

 

Zack had always enjoyed yelling encouragement at figures on screens. It was all in good fun. His commander’s distaste for it just made it better. 

 

Sephiroth thought it was a waste of breath. 

 

Grinning, Zack leaned forward further, even though his enhancements meant he could spot a fly down the length of a banquet table. Old habits died hard, and he didn’t wanna miss a thing.

 

He hadn’t seen Armageddon in a while actually. 

 

Cloud and his friends were systematically searching the room, the blond having designated quadrants to his team mates as the hulking Corel boy crouched against the door, ear pressed up to it to listen to the Crit Machine keeping the Thirds at bay.

 

The black haired First wanted to start a betting pool on which cadet would find the slips of paper first, but Sephiroth’s presence in the Observation Room meant that such a suggestion would never survive past Zack’s lips. 

 

His silver-haired friend had a reputation to maintain after all. Though as much as the older man tried to pretend he was a beacon of propriety, Zack knew the General often waged bets with Angeal and Genesis when they trained, had heard from Angeal that it was impossible to beat Sephiroth in any form of gambling.

 

It was a side of the General Zack had never witnessed. Sometimes he wondered if it was because he wasn’t good enough. 

 

He shoved the thought aside. On-screen, the Rocket Town cadet - the sharpshooter, Zack recalled, the one with the keenest eyes and steadiest hands - had found a piece of the code. Was placing it in the center of the room next to the console the cadets would have to use to input the completed code.

 

Cloud was next to find a piece of the puzzle, moving towards the center of the room with his slip of paper, waiting for the others. Four more parts and they could begin to work out the code.

 

_C’mon, kiddo. Time to shine._

 

##

 

**Step 9: Time to Shine.**

 

_Seriously?_

 

Cloud pushed aside thoughts of the General as a Sphinx - perfect silver head on the body of a lion with that black wing - focused on the riddle in front of them.

 

Each slip of paper had carried a single number or a set of numbers. 

 

1

1211

21

111221

312211

11

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Cloud had never liked puzzles or riddles. He liked things simple, straightforward. There’d been enough guessing games and uncertainty in his life. 

 

Ray was frowning, staring at the numbers, no doubt calculating and computing different equations. They had all removed their goggles, used a glow stick to read the slips of paper. The eerie lighting did nothing to detract from the Junon cadet’s good looks.

 

 _Oh for fuck’s sake._ Cloud was NOT checking out the other boy in the middle of Battle Sims.

 

 _Soon, baby._ Stupid lecherous thoughts. Stupid 15 year old body. 

 

Cloud willed himself to focus, tried to do his part. He wasn’t one for mental games, didn’t enjoy it at all, but this was just a code. Logically, they just needed to figure it out somehow.

 

_Logic._

 

He tried to find some sort of order to the numbers, rearranged the papers on the table - none of the other cadets had touched them once they’d been laid out, either out of confusion or because they figured only the CO was allowed to - until the numbers were in ascending order from left to right.

 

1 11 21 1211 111221 312211

 

There were no zeros, so this wasn’t that computer language Cait Sith sometimes mumbled. 

 

Cloud forced himself to take a breath, clear his mind. It wouldn’t do to get bogged down, to develop tunnel vision. He was in charge - he needed to take a step back and look at the bigger picture.

 

But what the hell did the numbers mean?!

 

Everyone looked frustrated, Ray more than the rest of them. Jared wasn’t dropping lecherous one-liners for once. 

 

No one wanted to have come this far only to be foiled by six slips of paper.

 

Cloud allowed himself to zone out slightly, stared at the numbers until they blurred along the edges.

 

What did one ‘one’, two ‘one’s, one ‘two’ and one ‘one’…

 

_That’s it!_

 

The blond felt his heart rate speed up. Could it be…could he have figured it out? Could it really be so simple?

 

He forced himself to take a calming breath, look at the numbers again. 

 

The General couldn’t have given them such a easy riddle…could he?

 

_I’m BLOND, not STUPID._

 

Cloud kicked himself mentally. The silver haired man couldn’t have known it would be Team Fenrir that would make it this far. Couldn’t have specially created the riddle just for him.

 

Could he? 

 

After all, Cloud’s key had been the last piece of the right disc. 

 

_Stop it. Focus!_

 

He couldn’t be sure, didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but time was running out. Grant had called a warning - the sounds of the machine outside had stopped. The Thirds would be on them soon.

 

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves - because he was putting himself at risk of seeming like a complete idiot - he turned to Ray and explained his thoughts. 

 

Those pale eyes widened, looked at the numbers again, and the brunette nodded firmly.

 

“Makes sense.”

 

Ralph whistled. “You sure you're a natural blond?”

 

Jared laughed. Reno snorted. 

 

Cloud was glad the sounds of someone body slamming the door prevented them from passing any more comments. 

 

**Status of Step 9: Success.**

 

At least, Cloud hoped it was. Brian was staring at him like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and Cloud was loathe to disappoint. 

 

**Step 10: Just Say When.**

 

Ralph had taken up a position that would allow him to fire at anyone who managed to bust in through the door, Jared beside him down on one knee taking aim. Grant, Reno, Brian and three others were trying to hold the door - Cloud was glad the paint pellets lacked the explosive force of real bullets. The wooden door wouldn’t have lasted this long through a barrage of real firepower. 

 

He glanced at Ray, the Junon cadet having keyed in their answer on the console.

 

13112221

 

Pale eyes turned to him. 

 

It was up to Cloud to give the go/no-go. 

 

It was up to him to say when.

 

He took another breath, expelled it, nodded.

 

_Fuck it. Never try, never know._

 

Cloud was getting far too comfortable taking risks.

 

Ray hit the ‘Enter’ button. 

 

A loud blaring horn sounded through the arena, and suddenly all the lights came on, blinding Cloud momentarily. He blinked away the black spots, tried to reorient himself as Jeffries’ voice boomed through the arena. Cloud didn’t need to see their instructor’s face to know he had his Proud Papa thing going.

 

“Attention all teams: the simulation has ended. Team Fenrir has won with a time of 3 hours and 57 minutes, two hours 12 minutes over the course record. Congratulations to Team Fenrir for the win and for setting a new record of not losing a single team member in the simulation.”

 

Cloud couldn’t tell who had crashed into him first, all he knew was that he was suddenly in the middle of a jumping, wriggling, yelling, whooping pile of bodies and packs. 

 

“We did it! We did it!”

 

“New course record, AGAIN!”

 

“In yo’ faces, haters!!!"

 

“Squad Goals, y’all!”

 

“We slay, all day!"

 

“YASSSSS!!!”

 

Distantly he realized he was laughing in relief. 

 

They’d done it. They’d won. Again.

 

Maybe dreams really did come true.

 

**Status of Step 10: Big fucking success.**

 

_Wow._

 

Cloud couldn’t recall feeling this euphoric in a long time.

 

##

 

 _Wow_.

 

Cloud couldn't recall feeling this exhausted in a long time. He was glad Target Practice had been cancelled, though now he was battling the call of Morpheus.

 

There were too many Matrix references flying around recently.

 

He’d barely gotten any sleep Wednesday night, had pushed himself as hard as ever in Crazy Bastards Training and personal training all week. Coupled with lugging that stupid ILBE pack around for almost four hours, running and climbing around a giant multi-level arena, getting into gunfights with other cadets and Thirds…

 

Hojo’s tweaking had made Cloud almost super human.

 

He didn’t have the energy to fight the memories, didn’t need to. Ray had collapsed groaning next to him on the floor of their bunker, Reno already lying in his bed. The redhead loved his beauty sleep a bit too much. 

 

Jared had his head in Cloud’s lap now, the taller blond wriggling into a better position on purpose. 

 

He had never been more grateful for his red blooded impulses. 

 

Lunch was in fifteen minutes, but Cloud wanted to skip to dessert.

 

_The marvels of youth._

 

As tired as he was, his stomach was energetically reminding him that it had been almost six hours since he’d last eaten. 

 

They made it to the canteen somehow, queueing to collect their meals in silence. Cloud just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, on not dropping his tray as he wandered over to his usual seat.

 

That was odd. Ray had hung back and was chatting with another cadet, had a serious look on his face as another cadet casually sidled up to join the conversation.

 

Reno was settling in in front of Cloud, scowling.

 

_Was something wrong?_

 

Cloud frowned. This wasn’t like the previous Battle Sims, when they’d been celebrating throughout lunch. Granted, they were all exhausted and a little banged up. But why did Reno look so pissed off? 

 

Maybe he was just mad they’d dragged him from his bed.

 

Ray was walking over to them now, expression as calm as ever though Cloud could see the tense muscles in his jaw. As the brunette sat down, pale eyes flicked to concerned baby blues and the Junon cadet gave him a small smile. 

 

“All good, don’t worry.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Reno look at the brunette suspiciously. 

 

Jared had started his sweet nothings to Brian, Ralph was ragging a cadet at another table for his winnings. 

 

Slowly, the atmosphere was returning to normal.

 

Cloud was too tired to question further. He told himself he’d deal with whatever it was later. 

 

For now, he needed food.

 

_TGIF._

 

##

 

Sephiroth frowned as another email from Cadet Affairs landed in his inbox. A cadet had to leave the program due to sudden serious illness.

 

That was the third cadet to depart since lunch time. The first had fallen down some stairs and smashed his face on the corner of the bannister, turning one eye into pulp while breaking his nose and losing several teeth. The second had had to pull out due to his father’s collapse from suspected heart complications. 

 

Sephiroth was no idiot. Zack had angrily told him of the rumors circulating - that Strife had given favors to the First in exchange for tips on how to win Battle Sims.

 

_Fools._

 

Cloud had more honor in one finger than these stupid petty brats had in their entire bodies.

 

He’d been furious when he’d heard it, though the shock of such strong emotions flooding through him had stilled him and he hadn’t reacted outwardly to Zack, who had yelled at him for being a cold hearted bastard and stormed off. 

 

That had hurt, though he knew it was only an emotional reaction from Zack, who was feeling frustrated at his inability to lash out at the cadets for such baseless trash, feeling impotent at his inability to defend Strife, feeling responsible for the spotlight on the blond. The Brigadier General would calm down eventually, tip toe into Sephiroth’s apartment with an apology and DVDs and Wutaian, probably send the Disney Princesses in once he’d left as a way to make amends for his childish behavior.

 

Zack didn’t believe Sephiroth was a monster, the General told himself. After all, the silver-haired man hadn’t put him on weekend duty in a long time. Sephiroth had been feeling generous after watching Battle Sims today, had tolerated the Black Porcupine’s cheers and hug (the instructors had looked like they’d been about to die of heart attacks) when Team Fenrir had won. 

 

The comment still stung, though he forced himself to focus on the issue at hand. He knew Zack wasn’t responsible for these sudden drop-outs. Trusted his second-in-command’s self-control, despite the black-haired man’s occasional lapses in decorum and obvious fondness for Cloud.

 

_STRIFE. His name is STRIFE._

 

He wished he could throw someone into a wall. This obsession with the blond, this outraged protectiveness was completely unnatural. It wasn’t like him.

 

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled through his nostrils. He needed to calm down, needed to focus. The Wutaians were advancing, and Genesis clones had intercepted a convoy of supplies, leaving his men stranded with dwindling food and ammunition.

 

Was it a coincidence?

 

Was THIS a coincidence?

 

It was too much to be one: three cadets having to leave within hours of the rumors starting. Zack had heard about it and reported it just after lunch, with the cadets now having an hour more to go to dinner time.

 

There was only one logical explanation, and Sephiroth wasn’t sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, he was glad the blond had such a powerful backer. On the other hand…

 

He didn’t like knowing one of the largest organized crime families in the world was using underhanded means to interfere with the SOLDIER cadet program. At the start of this intake, the President had given him a thinly veiled warning not to take any action against that Johnson boy no matter what, to ensure the kid’s protection and turn a blind eye to any underworld dealings - but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

 

The phone rang. Doubtless Kunsel calling in from the front lines to report.

 

Resolutely he pushed all thoughts of the cadets out of his mind. He had other things to worry about. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking about Cloud all day. 

 

No matter how proud he was of the blond.

 

A small smile curved his lips. 

 

Cloud had been magnificent.

 

He picked up the receiver, heard the familiar sounds of battle, felt the weight of his responsibilities crash back onto his shoulders with a vengeance.

 

##

 

Reno wasn’t an idiot. 

 

He’d heard the rumors while walking to the mess hall and queuing for his meal, the venom in low voices piercing through the fog in his sleep-addled brain and making his hackles rise.

 

_Fucking brats._

 

These dumb kids were actually spouting off shit because they were pissed at having lost a training simulation. 

 

_Entitled pricks._

 

He’d seen Ray speaking to some other cadets while he’d headed over to their table ahead of the brunette, not wanting Cloud to be alone. Not wanting the blond to realize what was being said about him.

 

_Haters gonna hate._

 

He’d been ready to tell Cloud that, if the other boy found out. But he hadn’t, and Reno was grateful for the Nibelheim boy’s total blondness when it came to anything outside of classes or battle.

 

The sudden departure of three cadets who’d started the rumor had quelled the spread of the lies. Though now they had another issue to deal with: some of the other cadets were giving them a wide berth, looking warily at Team Fenrir as they rappelled down ropes. 

 

_Pussies._

 

Reno’s lip curled in derision. 

 

Brian falling off the rope and into the mud distracted him from his thoughts as Ralph laughed while Jared babied the Kalm kid. Cloud had a small smile on his lips as he helped the blushing cadet to his feet. 

 

_That’s right. Just keep swimming, Blondie. Don’t let the haters get you down._

 

Reno was NOT catching any feelings. 

 

He headed back to their start point, went over his plans in his head. They were heading under the Plate for the weekend as usual, but Reno had several meetings lined up tomorrow afternoon. He’d mentioned it to Ray, who’d given him an inscrutable look and nodded. 

 

_Ray._

 

Reno wasn’t an idiot. The timing of Jared’s and Ralph’s jokes and distractions had been a little too perfect. The timing of the three punks leaving the program even more so.

 

_Could it be?_

 

Reno had heard the rumors before while in the slums, heard stories of a man called the Godfather. He’d assumed it was an Urban Legend, meant to scare widdle orphans into joining one of the many street gangs for protection. 

 

Surely no one had actually dared breach the Midgar slums and visited that pig Corneo with only one caporegime, made him an offer he couldn’t refuse and left unscathed.

 

Then again, the way some guys told it, the capo had held a gun to Corneo’s head and threatened to blow his brains out all over the contract the Godfather wanted signed. That was slightly more believable, though it still made no sense that the slimy Don had given in so easily and kept his word to two random dudes. 

 

He’d heard that the Godfather had a son, though no one knew how true it was. It was only natural for a man in such a line of business to keep his identity and the identities of his family members secret. 

 

Coupled with how Jared and Ralph seemed to know more about Ray than they let on, Ray’s ridiculous wealth, street-smart ways, fighting ability, how he seemed to always know what was going on, and the looks the brunette had gotten last weekend though, it wasn’t exactly a leap to imagine the shipping and alcohol business were only fronts, that the brunette was the rumored son of the rumored Underworld Kingpin. What better way to move product and get rid of bodies than by controlling logistics? What better way to have a legitimate reason to be in every city, town and village in the world than via alcohol - that social lubricant and cure-all that so many depended on, especially with the War?

 

The redhead had heard of how gangs near water bodies disposed of people. An old enforcer had mentioned that the wharves in Junon were filled with barrels of corpses.  

 

Reno would get his answers one way or another this weekend. Starting with Spider, who still owed him for that time.

 

The bell sounded at last. It was time to party up and get crunk. 

 

_TGIF, motherfuckers._

 

##

 

It seemed they were having a repeat performance.

 

Cloud moved against Ralph just as the black-haired cadet had taught him last week, chalked his slightly unsteady feet to the exhaustion from today and wondered where the others had gotten their energy from.

 

They were back in the club, though this time only about sixty other cadets had joined them, dispersing within the dark expanse soon after they’d entered though returning to the table on and off for more drinks. Cloud hadn’t managed to dodge Jared’s makeup brush in time - he blamed it on how tired he was from Battle Sims - so he’d already been leered at by at least a hundred people.

 

It wasn’t even 2300 yet, if his internal clock was accurate. 

 

They’d started with pre-game drinks on base as usual, Bunker 7’s common area becoming a de facto gathering spot for every other cadet on friendly terms with them. And there were a fair few, toasting to Team Fenrir’s victory and laughing at how exhausted Cloud looked. 

 

He’d spotted some wary glances as well, wasn’t sure what that was about. Or the looks Reno and Ray kept shooting each other. 

 

Ralph spun him around, started to nibble at his lips. The black-haired cadet’s lips were still healing, though the slight swell and the scabbing cut just lent him a more dangerous air, in Cloud’s very tipsy opinion.

 

_Oh..._

 

The feel of strong hands massaging his aching rear was very welcome. Cloud hadn’t had sore glutes from training in a long time, but the amount of physical activity this week had put a strain on his young body. 

 

And he hadn’t even gotten to dessert yet. 

 

Suddenly there was another set of hands, this time moving down his front as the blond felt heat against his back. 

 

He didn’t react, knowing only four people who would dare to touch him that way. 

 

It had been another of their conditions last week. That until Cloud found The One, only they would be allowed to get jiggy with him.

 

“We’re the only ones who can satisfy you anyway, Blondie.” Reno’s snide voice whispered. 

 

_For now._

 

Cloud wasn’t going to think of the General now, of all times, not when a warm hand was settled just above his groin, heat pulsing through the fabric of his jeans. He didn’t want to feel like he was betraying the love of his life, not when all he’d done was spoken five words to the silver-haired man (he’d counted as he’d gone over the moment for the hundreth time) and shook his hand. 

 

 _That’s all it was_ , he told himself firmly. _Nothing special, just an introduction_.

 

Ralph had released his lips, someone was turning his head to the side. He caught a glimpse of pale eyes before Ray’s deep kiss lit a fire in his belly.

 

 _Pretty sure that was lower than your belly_ , his inner pervert snickered. 

 

He needed a cool drink. It was getting far too warm in here.

 

Without the dance-off, the cadets didn’t interact much with each other. Team Fenrir of course stuck close to each other, though Brian was bravely guarding their drinks in an attempt to avoid the Floor of the Fallen, as the light brown-haired cadet had termed the dance floor. 

 

It was probably around midnight when Cloud left with Reno, Ray, Ralph and Jared. Brian was inebriated (as usual), supported by Grant (as usual) who had opted to head back to continue drinking in the bunker (as usual). 

 

_Deja vu, much?_

 

Not that Cloud was complaining. He’d enjoyed last week’s activities. 

 

As soon as the door to the apartment closed, the atmosphere changed. Cloud knew it was thanks to yet another condition he’d agreed to. 

 

Unless they were in danger, in class, or on a mission, if no one but any combination of the four was with the blond behind closed doors then they were in charge and he would do as he was told, let loose and follow their lead, stop thinking and just enjoy the moment, stop fighting and let himself live. 

 

He’d balked at that condition, among others. Had learned the hard way what happened when he let someone else take the wheel. But he’d known that their slightly Dom/Sub relationship was purely for all of them to let loose as well, only for the bedroom, away from prying eyes.

 

They’d proven themselves this week - treating him as affectionately and respectfully as ever, deferring to everything he said, only challenging him quietly in private but always putting on a united front in public. 

 

He wasn’t very sure what it meant to be a Sub - Jared had tried to explain some of the terms to him, but he’d blushed so hard the other blond had fallen over laughing. Ray had stepped in to help clarify, and his words had calmed the turmoil in Cloud’s head.

 

 _“You’re still in control,”_ the brunette had said, arm a reassuring weight around Cloud’s shoulders, words a reassuring bulwark against the panic. “ _If you really don’t like something, we’ll stop. We don’t want to hurt you for the sake of hurting you. Any pain must be for your pleasure.”_

 

 _And ours_ , Jared reminded the Junon cadet helpfully. 

 

Ray had smiled that fond smile he seemed to reserve only for the lecherous blond. 

 

Cloud was confused. If ‘Sub’ stood for ‘Submissive’, then how the hell was he still in control?

 

Reno had told him to stop thinking so much and just enjoy himself. Ralph had said it was about trust and left it at that. 

 

Ray was pouring whisky into mugs. It looked like the place had been spruced up - they now had a TV, some sort of console attached, a sofa, and rugs and cushions apart from the simple table and chairs that had been in the living room last week. 

 

Reno pulled out his cards as Ray connected his phone to the speakers and put on some music.

 

_Some things never change._

 

Cloud was glad for that. He grabbed a mug, toasted to Team Fenrir with the others, sat down and picked up his cards. 

 

It didn’t take them long to start the main event. Cloud was inwardly grateful - he didn’t think he could stay awake much longer. 

 

Though his little First Tsurugi was very much awake and perky right now as the blond sucked Reno off with his head upside down while Ralph probed between his legs. Cloud wondered where the lube had come from, forgot his question as the Rocket Town cadet found what he was looking for.

 

He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he liked the feeling of being filled on both ends, liked the way they were so rough with him, liked the way they tied him up and manhandled him.

 

And he definitely liked the way Jared was riding him, strong, lean legs straddling Cloud on the bed as the other blond squeezed his ass around Cloud’s cock, slamming himself down hard again and again, throaty moans filling the air.

 

Ralph’s rhythm stuttered, but Cloud couldn’t tell what was going on, Reno keeping a hand under the back of his neck to support him as the redhead fucked Cloud’s mouth, this position allowing the slum kid’s member to hit the back of the blond’s throat with every thrust.

 

Reno’s grip tightened, and Cloud prepared himself for it - swallowed instinctively as the angle made it hard to fight the gag reflex. He hoped he’d be punished for it later, wasn’t disappointed when the other boy slapped him and squeezed his neck. 

 

When Reno let go, Cloud gasped for air greedily, opened his eyes just in time to see Jared lean forward from where the other blond had been kissing Ralph, who had Ray behind him. As the taller blond bent forward to take Reno into his mouth, Cloud saw Ray move, heard Ralph cry out as the Rocket Town cadet thrust forward into Cloud, thought to himself that he shouldn’t find it so damn hot but he did. 

 

He looked up, saw Jared’s lips around Reno’s cock, pushed himself up to suckle on the future Turk’s balls, smirked when he heard the other boy groan under the ministrations of the two blonds. 

 

Then Jared was pulling back, riding Cloud harder and faster, and both blonds came at the same time, some of Jared’s cum hitting Cloud in the chin as it splattered over the smaller blond’s front. 

 

When Reno yanked Jared off Cloud, slammed himself into the other blond and forced the boy’s head down on Cloud to clean the Nibelheim cadet off, Cloud wished he didn’t have such an unobstructed view of himself being fucked by Ralph who was being fucked by Ray. The Rocket Town cadet was being supported by the Junon boy, who had an arm around his waist and another around his toned chest pinching a nipple as the brunette bit on the black-haired boy’s neck. Then suddenly wet warmth was filling Cloud, and Ralph slumped forward, bracing himself over the blond on shaky arms as Ray continued pounding into him, the momentum causing their sharpshooter to continue driving into Cloud, making the blond moan in tandem with Ralph. 

 

As soon as the Junon cadet came, Ralph flipped their positions and took his revenge on Ray, thrusting his fingers into the other boy as Ray grabbed Cloud’s spikes and forced the blond to clean him up. Cloud could taste the musky flavor, wondered why he was starting to enjoy it so much.

 

_Coz you’re Pavlov’s little bitch._

 

He didn’t have time to think about that as Jared entered him and started pounding, one hand going underneath to fist Cloud’s length and pump in time with Reno’s thrusts into their resident nympho.

 

The taller blond was really very handy with everything. 

 

Cloud wasn’t sure how long they kept going. All he knew was a tangle of sweaty limbs, sticky satisfaction over and over, then he came one final time and passed out.

 

He wondered vaguely what Sephiroth was up to.

 

##

 

Reno kept his body language deceptively relaxed as he sauntered through the slums. Even after all this time away in the cadet program, he knew exactly where he was going, knew exactly who he was going to see despite the man’s penchant for mind games and disguises.

 

It seemed Spider wasn’t looking to play games today. Or perhaps this was another game the bald man wanted to play, waiting for Reno in his “parlor” with two glasses of whisky on the table. 

 

If Reno rejected the drink, it’d be deemed an insult. If Reno drank it, it’d be foolish.

 

_Damned if you do, damned if you don’t._

 

He settled in to his seat - little more than an upturned crate - nodded at the fat man with the beady eyes.

 

Those eyes never left his as Reno lifted the glass to his lips and pretended to wet them. A small twisted smile contorted a perpetually intense face.

 

“Red.” Spider nodded at him. He’d passed the first test.

 

“Spider.” Reno nodded back. Waited. 

 

At length Spider moved, robes rustling as the bulky man straightened and leaned forward slightly.

 

“Dangerous games you’re playing, boy.” 

 

Reno cocked an eyebrow, didn’t allow himself to react otherwise even though the pungent stench emanating off the so-called “Master of Spies” had overwhelmed him in that moment. 

 

He’d gotten too used to the scent of sweat and cheap soap. Even though the cadets were often covered in proof of exertion, everyone bathed at least once a day. 

 

He was beginning to forget just how tainted everyone was under the Plate.

 

Spider’s thin lips contorted again as the man leaned back. 

 

“This about that cadet friend of yours?”

 

As usual, Spider was playing coy, leaving the door open for Reno to slip up. Was probably recording this conversation to use against the redhead too. 

 

Reno just smirked at him. He’d learned the hard way never to trust anyone from the slums, never to trust anyone in general though Cloud and the others kept shredding that principle to bits. 

 

They didn’t know what it was like, what it’d been like growing up in the slums, running errands for anyone who promised payment, spying and collecting information, beating down and shaking up people, taking whatever he had to because if he didn’t steal for the gangs then he wouldn’t have anything to eat. 

 

Sometimes he’d been beaten for his silence instead of paid, some sadistic bastards enjoying the fact that they’d jerked a kid around and were smashing his head in with a baseball bat. 

 

He learned to work for those who needed him for more than a one-time job. Though at first it had been trial-and-error still, trying to find someone who wouldn’t attempt to silence him permanently once the job was done. 

 

He still remembered what Sikes had done to Ollie. How the brutal older boy had destroyed the only friend he’d ever known, left him nothing but an empty shell, silenced forever those dreams of getting out of the slums.

 

He still remembered Sikes trying to break him too, how he’d fought back and stabbed a pen in the monster’s throat, had only been trying to protect himself and hadn’t meant to kill anyone.

 

He’d been eight or nine years old. The sight and smell of Sikes’ blood gushing out of the hole in his neck still lingered in his memory.

 

He recalled thinking hysterically at the time that the pen was mightier than the sword. 

 

That man with the goatee and center-parted hair had happened by as Reno had sat shivering and hacking on the cold ground, clothes ripped and barely able to keep his less swollen eye open, not knowing how he was managing to breathe through broken nose and busted mouth. The man had taken one look at Reno, taken his jacket off and covered the boy with it before putting Sikes in a trash bin, covering the monster in scraps, emptying bottles from around them and striking a match.

 

The smell would be forever etched in Reno’s mind. 

 

He couldn’t remember very well, but he recalled waking up to find himself bandaged and clothed, the burly man sitting next to him on the floor of some empty warehouse as he wondered how the man liked his payment. 

 

Turned out the man wasn’t interested in sex, something the redhead had found very hard to believe. But if this sucker was going to help him for free then so be it. No skin off his back.

 

Before he’d left, the man had given Reno three things, though at the time he’d considered only the wad of gil valuable.

 

He quickly realized that the other two things had been priceless: how to survive in the slums, and something to hold over Spider. 

 

When Reno had seen the man again, impeccably dressed and accompanied by others in suits and shades, heard the whispers around him that those were the Turks, he’d known immediately that he wanted to be one of them. It wasn’t just because everyone cleared out of their way, pretended to defer to them. 

 

It was because he’d suddenly found a way out of the slums that didn’t involve him being in a body bag or barrel surrounded by fish. 

 

He’d had his fair share of offers after the man had helped him and he’d wizened up - gangs looking to initiate the cocky redheaded punk who seemed to have everyone’s number. He’d worked for all of them on a freelance basis, covering his ass and building a reputation for himself while wondering if this was really all there was. 

 

If this was all he’d ever be. Just another gangbanger scrabbling to survive until he got shot or stabbed. 

 

Now though…he wanted to be a Turk. He was going to be a Turk. And he’d be damned if anyone got in his way.

 

Spider might have been a Master of Spies and a Master of Disguise, but Reno was training to be a better spy and a glorified assassin. He hadn’t retched after taking lives since that day when the haunted looking man had found him.

 

The bald man was speaking. Reno had won this round. 

 

They both knew that so long as Reno was alive, the information he had over the twisted creature was enough to ensure he’d keep having the upper hand. But for now they’d keep playing this little game, pretending they were both on equal footing. 

 

One day, Reno would thank Verdot for everything he’d given a scrawny hood rat. For now, he had several other people to see before he returned to his friends.

 

##

 

_Turks._

 

Cloud spotted the telltale signs from the blonde woman in the corner, who appeared for all the world to be nonchalantly enjoying a cigarette. 

 

Her nails were far too manicured for this part of Midgar. Her eyes flicked a little too often towards the path that led to the church.

 

He wouldn’t make it to Aeris without being spotted. And he really didn’t want to draw attention to himself even more than he already had.

 

_Unless..._

 

_No, absolutely not._

 

_But…_

 

_NO._

 

“What’s wrong?” An arm around his waist startled him back to the present, and he looked up into familiar dark eyes. Ralph was supporting him as they wandered through the slums, Reno having abandoned them before Cloud woke to run some errands, as Ray had termed it. 

 

Cloud wished the voices in his head would duke it out elsewhere.

 

_Fuck it. Never try, never know._

 

Cloud was getting far too comfortable taking risks and trusting people.

 

_Well, considering they know you INTIMATELY…_

 

Now if the snarky voice would just roll over and die, everything would be just peachy.

 

He focused on Ralph again, noted how the black haired cadet was looking worried that their activities had injured Cloud, was signalling to Ray that they needed to get the blond more potions. 

 

That cemented his resolve. 

 

“I need your help.”

 

##

 

_Was it supposed to be this easy?_

 

The others had jumped into action as soon as Cloud had said those four words, not asking any questions (for which Cloud was grateful) and doing a wonderful job distracting the Turks scattered around the area. 

 

They’d told Cloud to meet them at the hole in the wall in an hour, because that was when the rest of the bunker would be joining them for dinner. 

 

He slipped in through the heavy wooden doors, pushed them closed as gently as he could but still the hinges squeaked and he winced.

 

He turned towards the field of flowers just in time to see a brown head move in and settle on his shoulder, thin arms going around his neck as Aeris hugged him tight. 

 

_I’ve missed you too._

 

The blond hadn’t realized how tense he’d been until suddenly all the pressure was gone, and there was only peace in his soul as he closed his eyes and hugged his friend back. She still remembered him. She was still here. Still real. Still perfect. 

 

At length, the Ancient pulled back, green eyes twinkling at him and looking a little glassy. Cloud wanted to kick himself for not coming to see her sooner. 

 

They sat on the pew closest to the flowers, just leaning against each other and enjoying the moment. Cloud never wanted it to end. 

 

But he had questions.

 

Regretfully, he straightened, wished Aeris wouldn’t look at him like that. 

 

He cleared his throat, tried to find a way to put his thoughts into a coherent sentence. 

 

“My memories of the future…” he started, hesitant. “They’re…uh...”

 

_Oh good job, Blondie. Absolutely brilliant._

 

_Fuck off._

 

Aeris’ eyes were shadowed, the set of her jaw at odds with her innocent radiance. 

 

_She knows._

 

Cloud didn’t have time to think about how he felt about that. Aeris was speaking.

 

He wasn’t surprised to hear that yes, as he changed the past, the future - and his memories of the future - would change too. Neither was he surprised to hear that she would still be able to remember Version 1.0 because she was part-Cetra.

 

He wanted to know how to retain his memories, to prevent himself from ever forgetting. But as soon as he asked that question, Aeris frowned and he wanted to kick himself.

 

“Why would you want to hold on to all that pain, Cloud?”

 

It was an excellent question. He’d pondered it himself as well.

 

“I just…” he looked at the flowers, asked them for strength. “I just don’t want to forget what’s at stake.” He took a deep breath, recalled a Masamune slicing through a kneeling girl, remembered the way a black-haired man had fallen to man and machine and monster. “I don’t want to forget how much everyone sacrificed. For me.” That last part was added in shame and guilt.

 

A light touch on his cheek, and Aeris’ eyes were as soft as her gentle voice. 

 

“The ones who love you would never want you to go through that.”

 

His heart felt like a baby bird. Maybe it was the fact that Aeris was here, alive, speaking to him in this sanctuary. Maybe it was the sudden thought - green eyes and the word ‘love’ - that had seized him. 

 

He blushed, looked away, but not before her eyes turned teasing.

 

“He likes you, you know.” 

 

Those words, exactly what Ray had said to him on Thursday, sucked the air out of his lungs. 

 

Stammering, Cloud tried to pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. She just laughed that tinkling laugh he’d missed for so long.

 

Then she sobered and he tensed, though her warm, soft palm never left his cheek. 

 

“You’re wondering about his…reaction?”

 

No need to ask which reaction she was referring to.

 

Cloud nodded. He wanted to know, needed to understand why Sephiroth had seemed confused when they’d met. 

 

Surely it wasn’t the madness kicking in?

 

Aeris glanced at the flowers. 

 

“It’s hard to explain,” she started carefully. “But from what I understand, it’s Resonance.”

 

_Resonance?_

 

Cloud had never felt more blond in his life.

 

She turned back to him, smiling gently at his obvious confusion.

 

“When two souls are tied to each other so strongly,” she began, “time and space do nothing to weaken their bonds.”

 

_Wha…?_

 

_English, please._

 

Aeris giggled. She always had loved having fun at his expense, but he was glad to play the fool if it made her happy.

 

“What I mean is,” she shot him a playful look. “You and Sephiroth are meant to be.”

 

The whole world seemed to stop while spinning faster. 

 

At this rate Cloud would probably beat Sephiroth to the Madness.

 

His brown-haired angel was laughing again, the sound reminding him of wind chimes on a gentle breeze. 

 

When she finally got herself under control, Aeris continued. “Because of the ties that bind you and Sephiroth - the years, the scars, the emotions, the…science and the…dedication,” (Cloud was pretty certain she’d meant to say ‘obsession’ or ‘addiction') “and because of how strong those bonds you carry with you are, whenever you meet him your souls tend to ‘resonate' with each other and the Lifestream. Especially since your coming back keeps sending ripples along the continuum of time and space.” 

 

_English, PLEASE._

 

He must have said it aloud because Aeris laughed and clarified.

 

“Basically, because both of you are ABSOLUTELY meant to be together,” a hard yet playful look, "whenever you meet you’ll both experience flashes of memories and thoughts,” she smiled and stroked his cheek. “And, depending on how close you are to each other and how strong the ‘resonance’ is and your emotions are, others around you now - especially those whom you’ve spent considerable time with in…the future we know - may be impacted too.”

 

OK…Cloud was sort of beginning to maybe understand her a little somewhat.

 

_But…_

 

“…when you say ‘resonance’,” he started hesitantly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer to this. “Does that mean…?”

 

He wasn’t sure if he was glad she had always been able to read his mind.

 

“Yes,” she smirked at him. “Those strong ‘visions’ you see in your mind, he does as well."

 

_Oh.My.GOD._

 

_Oh no no no no no…FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME._

 

Those sticky wake-ups, those sudden flashes…

 

_FUCK ME SIDEWAYS THIS IS NOT GOOD OH GOD OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FU…_

 

Aeris had hugged him tight while laughing. She was enjoying herself a little too much, in his opinion. 

 

_We…we SHARED wet dreams?_

 

Cloud wanted to faint and wake up in his sad little shack. This was Horrible. 

 

Though at the same time, he couldn’t deny that it was Wonderful. 

 

##

 

It was an Intervention of sorts.

 

It seemed Tifa wasn’t the only one having conflicting memories (everyone agreed Reno was the most bonkers of the lot and therefore was to be kept locked away in an alcohol and drug induced haze as much as possible). Barrett, Vincent and Cid had all reported odd flashes, particularly when interacting with anyone ex-Shinra. 

 

For Barrett, it had been Ray Johnson and his bodyguard that had made him begin to pull a Cloud. 

 

For Cid, it had been his nephew. Tifa had never heard of said nephew before, she was positive, but Cid was pretty sure he’d always talked about him.

 

Vincent wouldn’t reveal what he’d experienced, but if he had called Reeve to check it must have been Planet-shattering. 

 

So here they were: Tseng, Rude and all of AVALANCHE sans Cloud, hunched over the bar in Seventh Heaven, staring at Reeve like they hoped he had the answers to questions they didn’t know how to ask. 

 

Tifa supposed they should have picked someone who spoke English. That was the reason why they hadn’t allowed Red XIII to speak, but Reeve wasn’t much better. Just more…’scientific’. 

 

The dark-haired woman tried to remain standing as she processed what Reeve had just explained for the tenth time.

 

The President of WRO had the patience of a saint. He had erased his previous drawing and was starting to squiggle again on a white board he’d brought along for the occasion. 

 

Barrett and Cid downed their glasses in unison.

 

“Once more from the top, ladies and gentlemen,” Reeve’s gentle voice betrayed no hint of impatience or irritation.

 

“Time is not a straight line,” he drew a line and erased it. Tifa thought he was getting a little too much into his role playing.

 

“Think of time and space as interchangeable names for the same ball that grows and shrinks at will.” With that, Reeve drew a several circles, each larger than the other. 

 

“We are, possibly, here,” he placed a dot somewhere on the right of the innermost circle. “And Cloud has gone ‘here’.” He placed another dot towards the middle of the same circle. “Bear in mind, however, that a ball is three-dimensional. Which means we have to add ‘depth’ as another element.” He’d talked X-, Y- and Z-axes earlier, and only Cid and Vincent had understood. 

 

Well, Vincent’s expression never changed, regardless of whether he understood something or not. 

 

“Every time Cloud does something in the ‘past’ as we know it, the size and position of the ball changes.” And with that, Reeve drew another circle, this time part of its circumference cutting in between the two dots.

 

“Every time we meet someone who is possibly being directly impacted by what Cloud is doing in the past,” he nodded at Cid, who had forgone his glass and was drinking straight out of the bottle, “our position in the ball changes.” He placed another dot somewhere along the latest circle’s circumference, labelled it ‘Cid’. 

 

“This will keep happening, until Cloud’s ‘time’ converges with our ‘time’.” Reeve started drawing circle upon circle until Tifa couldn’t tell where one began and another ended. 

 

The kindly man set his marker pen down, took a sip of his whisky, and smiled beatifically at them. “Any questions?”

 

Tifa needed a seat. And a stiff drink.

 

Barrett set his bottle down with a _thunk_. The dark-haired woman braced herself.

 

“So,” Barrett’s gravelly voice rumbled more when he was tipsy. “We’ll just keep being mind-fucked until we see Cloud again?”

 

Reeve smiled serenely. “Pretty much, yes.”

 

Tifa heard a _thunk_. Cid had dropped his head on the bar counter and was cursing under his breath.

 

_Screw the drink. I need whatever Reeve’s sniffing._

 

If ever there was a time to get on LSDs, it was now.

 

Tseng cleared his throat, and Reeve turned to look at him, still as calm as ever. 

 

The WRO President was enjoying himself a little too much.

 

“If I understand correctly, sir,” the Head of the Turks was as polite as ever. “We may begin to experience…external changes as well?”

 

This was definitely a reference to Reno’s sudden second ear-ring. And the Fenrir studs Tifa and Rude had spotted earlier.

 

Reeve nodded. “Yes, that’s right. And it goes beyond just small changes such as piercings on a person.” 

 

_‘Small’?!_

 

The man needed to get his priorities in order. Though Tifa supposed surviving wars and attempted destructions of the Planet tended to make one a little more immune to surprises. 

 

Reeve continued once Cid had lifted his head to gape at him. “What I mean is - and you should all be prepared for it - changes may begin to manifest physically in terms of buildings, cities, and even people who have died in ‘our past’.”

 

Tifa had always believed herself rather level-headed and dependable, that nothing could really shock her anymore, that she would be able to stay calm throughout the worst crises. She’d had to be, taking care of Cloud and trying to save the world several times. 

 

She realized belatedly that the reason she could no longer see everyone was because her legs had given out and she was sitting on the floor behind the bar.

 

“Tifa?”

 

Vincent was peering over the edge looking at her. She wanted to smack the perennially unflappable former Turk.

 

She stood, turned and grabbed a bottle of vodka off the top shelf. 

 

“Drinks on the house tonight.”

 

This time-travel business was messier than she’d thought.

 

Yet at the same time, she wondered at the last part of Reeve’s sentence.

 

_Would Cloud and…?_

 

I hope so, she told herself. If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s him.

 

_Here’s to you, Cloud._

 

##

 

It was just after dinner when they spotted her. 

 

She looked nondescript, with short brown hair and a ragged cloak. But Reno stiffened slightly, and it was enough of a signal to the others.

 

Cloud glanced at Ray who nodded, turned, murmured something to Grant who grunted and dragged Brian and the others off, rumbling good night to the five of them.

 

As soon as their friends had left, Cloud turned to Reno, raised an eyebrow.

 

The redhead looked reluctant to say, but the woman was disappearing around a corner.

 

“That woman’s the leader of AVALANCHE,” Reno managed to say without moving his lips much. Cloud needed to learn that skill.

 

Ralph and Jared whistled, Ray had cocked his head - a cool, almost cold look in his silver eyes. 

 

“Let’s go.” Cloud was really becoming too comfortable taking risks. Though this time he blamed it on the copious amounts of alcohol he’d consumed at dinner.

 

It was Ray’s fault for being so damn generous. 

 

And Aeris’ fault for how out of it he was.

 

They split up, Ray with Cloud because the latter’s and Reno’s hairstyles stood out a little too much, even in this part of the slums. Cloud had seen a lady with washed-out rainbow colored hair walking around earlier in nothing but plastic bags held together with safety pins. At least, she had looked like a lady, though Ralph had sworn he’d seen 'dangly wrinkled man bits’ and started wailing about having such keen eyesight.

 

'Man bits' was a lovely word, in Cloud’s opinion. It fit so well with everything.

 

Example one: He looked forward to seeing their ‘man bits’ soon.

 

Example two: His ‘man bits’ were getting rather jolly at the thought of all the ‘man bits’ time coming up. 

 

_Oh for FUCK’s sake._

 

They were on a mission, dammit.

 

The woman wasn’t very tall, so Cloud had difficulty spotting her but it seemed Ray could. They walked casually, the brunette’s arm around Cloud’s waist, both of them dressed simply in faded jeans and plain tees that had magically appeared in their apartment earlier.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Ralph and Jared holding hands, carrying on a conversation as though they were simply two ridiculously good-looking teenage boys out on a date.

 

He wondered at the lack of homophobia they encountered. He supposed life under the Plate was easier without staunch ‘moral values’.

 

He recalled a conversation with Reeve and Vincent back in the future. The WRO President had mused that when people had to fight to survive, when they weren’t sure if they’d live through tomorrow, they tended to focus on basic needs like food, water, shelter, safety. 

 

It was only when they had all of that - including clothes, medicine, funds - that other matters started to occupy their minds. When someone called Maslow got involved. 

 

Vincent had mentioned mildly that it explained why Ladies Who Lunch tended to make mountains out of molehills.  

 

Cloud had wondered at the time what exactly the former Turk knew about Ladies Who Lunch. Hadn’t asked because he respected his golden-clawed friend’s privacy a little too much. 

 

But then Reeve had continued by saying it was also easiest to manipulate the downtrodden and disenfranchised by giving them someone to blame, someone to focus their rage on and hold responsible for their poor lot in life, their lack of resources.

 

The man behind Cait Sith had casually mentioned Shinra was fortunate for always having someone to fight: “how lucky for Shinra and Neo-Shinra that there’s always an enemy ready to step in and destroy everything - Wutai, AVALANCHE, Sephiroth, the Triplets, Deep Ground...”

 

Reno had been dozing in the corner, Rude next to him - they tended to avoid the bar whenever Barrett was around, but that time the Turks had been there already when the burly man had barged in looking for Cloud. 

 

The blond recalled the Corelian had taken that moment to look at the redhead. “Maybe if they weren’t asleep at the wheel all the damn time they would've known when shit was hittin’ the fucking fan.”

 

Barrett had never gotten over Jessie’s, Biggs’ and Wedge’s deaths. 

 

Reno hadn’t moved, but a clear blue eye was staring straight at them as a familiar snide voice hardened. “I love naps but I stay woke.”

 

Rude had shifted slightly in his seat then, and Reno’s expression changed - arms going up in an exaggerated stretch as he yawned loudly and told them he’d _catch them later_ (the redhead always seemed to find that funny) as the Turks left. 

 

Ray tightened his grip on Cloud’s waist, was walking them past a doorway when the brunette whistled softly. Cloud turned to look at him and smiled, kept his gaze focused on the name plate above the door and nearly fell over.

 

The lettering was faded, but he could make out a ‘7’ and ‘eaven’.

 

_What…?_

 

Aeris had mentioned that things had changed here thanks to his little tumble. But Cloud was pretty certain Seventh Heaven had only existed later, after Nibelheim. 

 

Or had it?

 

His memory had always been shoddy. Now it was worse than Barrett’s subtlety. 

 

He almost missed Ray nodding at someone they walked past. Wanted to turn to get a better look at whoever it was, but didn’t want to give them away.

 

They were almost at the apartment when Reno caught up with them. The redhead looked like he’d sauntered in from a beach holiday as usual, but Cloud could see the slight tension in pale blue eyes.

 

Reno threw himself on the couch as soon as the door to the apartment was closed and locked. 

 

_Guess cards are off the table tonight._

 

Cloud sat on a cushion on the floor, since he doubted all five would fit on the three seater. 

 

Reno accepted the bottle Jared held out to him while Ray set up the TV and console, Ralph passing Cloud a bottle as the black-haired cadet settled onto the sofa behind the blond. 

 

They watched some TV series about a genius detective and his doctor friend for a bit before Reno spoke. By then, the redhead had finished half his bottle and half a pack of cigarettes.

 

“AVALANCHE wants to save the Planet,” Reno’s voice was soft. “By taking down Shinra and everyone connected with them.”

 

Cloud continued drinking, lit another cigarette. He’d been part of AVALANCHE, had tried to take down Shinra and everyone connected with them too.

 

“Thing is, though,” the redhead continued, staring off into space. It was the first time Cloud had ever seen the other boy so pensive. “They don’t handle it well when people get in their way.”

 

_Neither did you, Turk._

 

He was surprised at the vehemence of that thought. But he’d never forgotten Jesse’s broken body.

 

None of the others spoke, waiting for Reno to get whatever it was out of his system. They didn’t have to wait long, the alcohol loosening the redhead’s tongue more than usual.

 

“I’ve seen them slaughter kids who just happened to be playing nearby.” Reno looked down, realized his cigarette was burnt out and stubbed it out on the ashtray. He lit another almost unconsciously.

 

“They tried to deal with me too, when they figured I’d sell them out to Shinra soon as I entered the cadet program.” 

 

Cloud wondered at that. Recalled the future Reno had told him that he’d “worked” for anyone who would pay when he’d been younger.

 

Had Reno done some jobs for AVALANCHE before?

 

The redhead turned to look at them, expression guarded. 

 

“They thought I needed whiskers so I’d look more like the ‘rat’ I am.” Reno smiled mirthlessly, tapped the scar on his left cheek. 

 

_Wha…?_

 

Did that mean…?

 

The gouges had clearly been deep. But what stunned Cloud most was the fact that both scars were perfectly symmetrical, mirrors of each other on high cheekbones. That kind of precision could only come from steady hands, deliberate intent. 

 

Ralph reached across Ray, offered his bottle to Reno, who clinked his own against it and took a long swallow without waiting for anyone. 

 

The AVALANCHE Cloud knew would never have done such a thing.

 

_Says the man who blew up reactors with AVALANCHE._

 

How many children had he killed? How many carried scars from his actions?

 

Jared had gotten on his knees and was hugging Reno, the taller blond molding his body perfectly to the redhead’s, but for once the green-eyed boy wasn’t saying anything perverted. 

 

Ray clapped Reno on the shoulder twice, turned back to the TV without saying anything. Cloud wondered again at the brunette’s cold eyes whenever AVALANCHE was mentioned.

 

Wondered if he’d see any ‘man bits’ tonight.

 

What the hell had Ray put in the damn cigarettes? They were Having A Serious Conversation, and all Cloud could think about was getting lucky.

 

He didn’t want to say anything though. Wasn’t sure what to say, or how to say it. He was as guilty as this AVALANCHE, as guilty as the future Reno. None of them were clean. None of them were innocent.

 

None of them deserved to be saved. 

 

" _Don't_  make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.” A crisp, curt voice spoke.

 

Startled, Cloud turned to the screen. He’d forgotten they had the TV on.

 

Ray was fiddling with some sort of control unit, switching to a show about the Devil running a piano bar in Midgar. 

 

_Sounds about right._

 

At the very least, it was somewhat “lighter” content than what had been playing earlier.

 

And more…stimulating, too. 

 

On screen, the dark-haired man had gotten out of bed - told an angry dark-skinned man it was called the “Devil’s Threesome” for a reason.

 

Cloud wondered what the Devil would call his regular activities.

 

It didn’t take long for them to get to it. At least, Cloud didn’t think it took long. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but before he knew it he was naked on his knees with a ball gag in his mouth, blindfold across his eyes, hands bound behind his back to the top of his thighs via some leather straps, vibrating cock ring firmly in place.

 

Ray’s little Bag of Tricks was Back in Black. 

 

They had stuffed a string of balls inside him and told him that if he wanted to cum, he’d force all the balls out one by one. 

 

It was hard to focus with the vibrations around his weeping length, the sounds of some obscene show Ray had put on in the background, someone’s foot nudging one of the balls back in and a big toe toying with his puckered, wet entrance. 

 

He thought he heard rustling, then a warm mouth was closing around his penis and he cried out into the ball gag. 

 

A kick to his right butt cheek, and Reno’s voice sounded rough. “Focus, slut.”

 

Cloud was trying, really. But the balls were slippery, and he assumed it was Jared’s mouth around his member because only Jared ever sucked him off. And only Jared was this good with his tongue.

 

He tried to breathe, tried to focus on pushing the foreign objects out without embarrassing himself, but it seemed he was taking too long. Hands shoved him down and rearranged whoever it was under him - most likely Jared, since the other boys liked watching the two blonds get it on - then something else was being pushed into him and Cloud arched his back, stubbornly refusing to tap out but crying out as much as he could.  

 

_It’s too big, it won’t fit!_

 

“Shut up and take it, bitch.” A hand yanked his head back and someone slapped him hard across the face before pinching and twisting a nipple. Beneath him, Jared was moaning and thrusting his cock against Cloud’s, enjoying the vibrations from the cock ring but suffering none of its restrictive effects.

 

When at last whatever it is was seated inside Cloud, stretching him more than he’d thought possible, the blond realized he was lying on top of Jared, who was groping his butt and circling his finger around Cloud’s twitching hole. 

 

Then the latest…thing…inside Cloud started to vibrate and he wanted to cry. Every vibration shook the balls inside him, and they rubbed against his prostate hard while the cock ring and Jared’s own member kept stimulating him from the front. 

 

The taller blond was moaning too, hips thrusting faster against Cloud’s.

 

A whistle from behind them. “Damn, son.”

 

A chuckle. “Two blonds and a dildo.”

 

Did that mean…?

 

“Yes, yes, faster, faster!” Jared was crying out beneath him, breath warm against Cloud’s ear. 

 

The thought of it - that the same object inside him was also inside the taller blond - as they humped each other on the floor while the other boys watched from the sofa, was enough to send Cloud over the edge. Except he couldn’t come, BECAUSE OF THE DAMNED RING.

 

He tried to scream, to plead through the ball gag; tried to stop tears from flowing as he shook his head against Jared’s shoulder. He didn’t want to tap out, didn’t want the torment to end, it was painful and it was perfect but...

 

_PLEASE!_

 

Either the other boys had heard his muffled pleas, or they were getting too impatient. Cloud was suddenly yanked backwards, ball gag removed and foreign elements yanked out his ass with a loud “plop”  - the balls rubbed and chafed gloriously - as his head was forced down on someone - he gagged around the thick member and a fist tightened in his hair in warning - and his ass was slammed down on a hard, thick cock. 

 

Cloud had always been limber. He thanked his stripper-like flexibility for being able to pull this position off so easily, bent almost double into…

 

_A pornographic rainbow? A dirty pretzel?_

 

That stupid voice wasn’t helping. 

 

Whoever he was sucking off came hard, yanked Cloud's head back as soon as he’d emptied into the blond’s mouth. Cloud kept his mouth open, feeling saliva and cum trickling out the sides and down his chin, waited for it. 

 

He wasn’t disappointed. Someone spat into his orifice, slapped him hard then backhanded him for good measure before fingers started to fuck his mouth. 

 

“Swallow.” 

 

That voice sounded like Ray’s, though he couldn’t be sure. He swallowed while fingers held his mouth open on both sides, gulped air greedily as whoever it was in his ass started to thrust faster, hands gripping Cloud’s hips almost painfully tight to better slam the blond down on a hard cock. 

 

He needed to come, dammit!

 

“Pl…please…” Surely that breathy moan hadn’t come from him.

 

Dark laughter, and this time he was sure it was Ray in front of him when a strong hand gripped his jaw and the brunette’s voice filled his ears. “Do you want to cum, whore?”

 

He nodded as much as the grip on his face allowed. _PLEASE!_

 

He heard Jared cry out in release, hated the other blond for being able to find satisfaction, then his nose was against sweaty balls as he was ordered to clean Jared up “well and good”. 

 

He wasn’t in the mood for negotiation, the time for diplomacy was long past. Cloud opened his mouth, stuck his tongue in as far as it could go and licked and suckled, cum and saliva smearing across his cheeks and chin as his face was shoved against the other boy’s ass in tandem with the thrusts of the cock inside him. 

 

As whoever it was spilled inside him, the cock ring was removed and Cloud came hard, crying out into Jared’s ass as the other blond wrapped his legs around Cloud’s head in an attempt to keep the smaller boy's tongue in.

 

Hands in his hair fisted as Jared continued to fuck himself on Cloud’s tongue. The shorter cadet felt his legs being lifted, felt someone move to get under him as he was shifted, and suddenly his hole was being stretched as it had been last week.

 

He tried to move away, tried to cry out - _it won’t fit, it won’t fit!_ \- but his ass was slapped hard in punishment as two hard cocks pushed against the ring of muscle and pierced through. 

 

He could hear someone fucking Jared’s mouth, wondered briefly at what position they were all in right now, then the two inside him started to move and he was glad he’d held out. 

 

Cloud moaned into Jared’s ass as the taller blond rubbed cum and saliva all over his face with his gyrations, forcing Cloud’s face against himself harder and the smaller cadet reciprocated because he was feeling so good, so _used_ \- sucking, licking, thrusting his tongue in and out as fast as he could. 

 

He liked the taste of sin, wanted this proof of their shared darkness, liked how he was so incredibly stretched and yet still wanted more.

 

This wasn’t enough to satisfy. It wasn’t _him_.

 

The two who were fucking him pulled out and he felt warmth leak from his slowly closing hole, his face was yanked away from Jared’s ass and suddenly there were two hot, slick cocks at his lips. Cloud let them stretch his mouth wide, felt the spurts to the back of his throat, swallowed when he was told to, then he was pushed onto his back, landing on his forearms against a rug, knees bent and pointing to the ceiling thanks to the restraints, as something very thick was being shoved into his ass. 

 

_What…?_

 

A rough voice was telling him to fuck himself. 

 

The dildo started to vibrate.

 

_How…?_

 

Where there was a will, there was a way. Cloud rolled himself over, hating the shameful position but never wanting the sweet torment to end, scooted back on his knees and chest until he felt the bottom of the sofa against his feet, spread his legs as much as he could and angled his butt upwards slightly to thrust back against the edge of the seat.

 

He wanted to cry at how shallow the thrusts were. He needed MORE.

 

“What a slut.” A hard slap to his butt cheek had him moaning as it jiggled the dildo inside him, made it press briefly against that spot within him and send sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. 

 

More slaps, and Cloud cried out. “PLEASE!”

 

He hated how helpless he felt, but he loved how good it was a bit too much to stop. 

 

Sardonic chuckles, and the restraints on his thighs were released, though his arms remained bound behind him. 

 

“Go on, whore.” Someone’s leg nudged the dildo in deeper. 

 

Distantly he heard a click, felt the vibrations speed up inside him, stopped considering how shameful it was that he was pushing back against someone’s shin, fucking himself on a dildo in front of four others.

 

“Like a bitch in heat,” Reno hissed. At least Cloud thought it was Reno. The voice was lower, rougher than usual. 

 

He didn’t care right now. He was so close, just a few more thrusts…

 

The leg he was humping suddenly pushed forward and Cloud’s face hit the rug. The dildo was wrenched from inside him - he wanted to scream at the loss but a cock was shoved deep past his lips - and someone had thrust hard into his ass while squeezing his balls. Cloud cried out around the hard length that started to fuck his mouth, two hands holding his hair in a brutal grip as a voice behind him spoke. “Tighten up, slut.”

 

Then the thrusts picked up pace, almost violent in their force. 

 

Reno was pounding his demons into Cloud’s ass as hard as he could. 

 

The blond knew a thing or two about blanking out the darkness with the temporary bliss of sex. 

 

He clenched his muscles, heard the redhead moan from behind him, felt the grip on his hips tighten, thought to himself that his knees would be raw by the time they were done and then he was screaming around a thick cock as he came hard.

 

He barely had time to recover before the dildo was being pushed into him again, and as soon as it was almost fully seated within him the blond was yanked backwards into an obscene _seiza_ position before his butt was slammed down, the force of the contact with the thin rug driving the dildo hard into him and making him cry out again. 

 

The blindfold was removed at last, though his vision was blurry from the tears and sweat the cloth hadn’t been able to absorb. He blinked, disoriented, then shut his eyes as the vibrating machine inside him kept hitting the sweet spot thanks to whoever it was making Cloud slam his butt again and again into the ground. 

 

A hand squeezed his jaw and he opened his mouth obediently, peered through damp lashes to see Ray in front of him, then fingers were in his mouth slicking cum on his palate. 

 

Cloud was suddenly shoved down to the side, unable to brace against the fall due to his bound arms but landing on a soft rug. Before he could right himself, Jared had flipped him on his back and was crawling over him hungrily, the taller blond seating himself fully on Cloud’s cock and making them both moan at the sensation. 

 

Lying on his back on the ground, Cloud had a perfect view of Ray fucking Jared’s mouth, of the way the brunette had his hands fisted in blond hair while he rammed himself in again and again into a waiting, wanton hole. Somehow Jared kept riding Cloud in perfect rhythm, ass tightening on the way up before slamming down hard. 

 

Someone jerked Cloud’s hips up, sending Jared tumbling forward into Ray and taking the Junon cadet deeper. The dildo was removed again, his butt slapped and pinched, then Reno was thrusting in again and again as Ralph straddled Cloud’s face and fucked his head into the rug. 

 

_Too much…too good…don’t stop..._

 

They kept going, switching positions and pushing Cloud to the limits of his flexibility and endurance, making him climax again and again until he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. He loved every second, and hated himself for it. 

 

He hoped this wasn’t one of the ‘resonating’ incidents. He never wanted the General to see him like this - debased, completely at the mercy of others, craving pain and pleasure like a mindless whore.

 

Like the puppet he was.

 

By the time the others cleaned him up, carried him to bed and tucked him in, he couldn’t feel anything below his shoulders, couldn’t think past the haze of dopamine, high from the epinephrine released thanks to the blissful torment. 

 

Sleep claimed him as someone stroked his hair gently. He wondered if it was Sephiroth. The hand was warm, just like the silver-haired man’s had been that time. 

 

##

 

Ray unfolded the papers that had been hidden in the pocket of his freshly delivered jeans as Ralph took a shower. The others weren’t awake yet - Reno enjoyed his beauty sleep, and the demons had driven him late into the night. 

 

Ray knew a thing or two about demons.

 

Cloud and Jared wouldn’t be up for at least an hour more, going by experience. Especially Cloud, who had refused to say “Fenrir” or tap out even once last night, no matter how much they abused him.

 

The blond had his own demons. They all did.

 

He read the first sheet quickly - Ralph took quick showers, they all did thanks to cadet training - before moving on to the second.

 

He wasn’t surprised that Reno had been asking around about him, had known that was what the redhead would be up to when he’d said he needed to “meet some old friends”. 

 

He also wasn’t surprised that Reno had been asking around subtly about Cloud and that girl Cloud had gone to visit. They were all curious about the blond’s sudden about-turn, about everything the smaller cadet did, hoping for any clues that might explain what they’d clearly missed the first few months of cadet training.

 

His men hadn’t been able to find out much about the girl yet, only her name (it was a lovely name, Ray admitted), that she had been found by a local widow as a child crying at the train station, spent a lot of time in an abandoned church, and had been under Turk surveillance for years. 

 

The third piece of paper, larger and heavier than the others, had him smiling, almost hearing Lara’s sultry voice through her neat, cursive writing. She’d been with the Brigadier General the previous weekend, and he’d ordered the Disney Princesses for the General twice in as many weeks. 

 

_Big spender._

 

The triplets weren't cheap. But they were worth every gil.

 

And more.

 

It seemed the General had a preference for blond, blue-eyed beauties. As usual, the SOLDIER hadn’t said a word about the War or what he was working on, hadn’t shared any information about himself or Shinra. But what was more interesting to Ray were the facts that the silver-haired man had occasionally stopped and blinked in confusion, and refused to look at any of the trio’s faces - either keeping his eyes closed or taking them from behind. 

 

No need to wonder who it was he truly wanted to have in his bed. Ray knew arousal when he saw it - had read it in every line of the SOLDIER’s body when the tall commander had been face-to-face with Cloud.

 

It seemed his Boss was becoming Achilles' Heel. 

 

Ray knew it would come in handy one day. While he hadn’t gotten close to Cloud out of self-serving intent - had honestly been drawn to the blond since his little ‘Matt Incident' - it didn’t hurt that there were…substantial benefits to being friends. 

 

_That’s putting it mildly._

 

Having the small cadet at his mercy, mewling and moaning, had made him burn hotter than Lara or the Disney Princesses ever had. There was a difference in having someone so strong and proud bend to your will compared to prostitutes trying to please their powerful young customer. 

 

The Siblings of Sin had done well. The bugs had been planted in the General’s penthouse - the latest iteration of their spying equipment that was sound-activated (to conserve battery life) and didn’t transmit, meaning they couldn’t be detected by the Security Team that swept the quarters of every high-ranking member of Shinra and SOLDIER. Either the Disney Princesses would return to collect whatever had been recorded some time in future (and going by track record, they would probably be back in the General’s apartment soon) or Ray would find a way to ‘turn’ one of the Security Team. 

 

Lara had been busy too, entertaining the Vice President. 

 

Ray’s mouth turned down slightly at the corner as it always did when he thought of Rufus Shinra. He’d never liked him, and neither had his father. 

 

Johnsons could smell evil, and the young Shinra was rotten to the core. 

 

He knew Rufus was working with AVALANCHE to take the President down, though details were still sketchy. Lara could make anyone talk, but she had to be careful not to ask too many questions, not to appear too interested in things that didn’t concern her. The younger Shinra was suspicious by nature, no doubt because he had so much to hide. 

 

He was also vicious, more so than any of the soldiers or enforcers that worked for the Johnson family. 

 

Ray had no respect for any man who wanted to kill his own father out of greed and covetousness, who spent more time trying to further that agenda than on being a good son. 

 

He supposed the President hadn’t helped himself much, never spending much time with his heir, preferring the company of sycophants, hypocrites and prostitutes. 

 

 _A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man_ , his father had told him.

 

To Ray, a man who held no loyalty to his family was worse than trash.

 

He knew he needed to remain objective, that he needed to keep a level head in order to better be able to plan, make the kind of decisions a Godfather had to make. But he’d always suspected that it’d been Rufus Shinra who had given AVALANCHE the information that had led to his mother’s paralysis. His father had told him not to jump to conclusions, that it could be any of the rival Families, anyone within their own Family, but Ray _knew_.

 

It was the only logical explanation. No one outside a select few had known about the meet, which was supposed to be between Vito, Ray, the President and Rufus. But Ray had wanted to go fishing earlier in the day, so his father had taken him out on their boat together with their Consigliere, and on the way back the motor had malfunctioned. His mother had gone in their stead to represent the Family to Shinra and buy them enough time to be helo-ed or towed back to their pier. 

 

It had probably been a “good faith” gesture on Rufus’ part - a way of showing AVALANCHE that his information was solid, that he truly was on their side, battling Shinra and its Evil Friends. 

 

His mother hadn’t laughed again since her legs had been blown off. Hadn’t danced with his father again. Hadn’t stood on tiptoes to kiss the top of his head again. 

 

The doctors said she’d been fortunate. The bomb had been placed to take out Vito, who always sat behind the passenger seat. His mother, out of habit, had sat behind the driver. 

 

Ray wondered how “fortunate” the doctors would feel if they’d lost part of themselves to trigger-happy tree-huggers. Science and robotics couldn’t replace flesh and blood and memories. 

 

And memories were really all they had. What made them, them.

 

Sudden movement in front of him and he jerked his head up, rising to his feet as one hand scrunched the papers up while the other grabbed the whisky bottle - wishing he’d placed his _urumi_ within easier reach - and prepared to strike Ralph on the side of his head.

 

_Ralph._

 

Ray blinked.

 

The Rocket Town cadet was holding his mug out for some whisky, acting for all the world like Ray hadn’t almost tried to murder him. 

 

The brunette poured four fingers mutely, set the bottle down and settled back in his seat, trying to calm his thundering heart, wondering how long other boy had been there.

 

Ralph took a swig, lit a cigarette and started laughing. 

 

_What the hell?_

 

The other boy had probably sniffed too many fumes in the garages back home.

 

When at last the Rocket Towner realized that Ray was glaring at him, he sobered slightly, still grinning. 

 

“First Reno, now you,” he chuckled, taking a swig of his coffee-whisky mix. “Next time I’ll throw an alarm clock at you guys.”

 

_First Reno, now…?_

 

_Oh._

 

Reno had almost ripped Ralph’s face off when he’d tried to wake the redhead in class that time.

 

He allowed himself to relax. Ralph wasn’t a threat. The boy owed him - big. And it seemed he’d figured out Ray’s identity last weekend. The brunette hadn’t planned on collecting, had helped the black-haired boy because he’d felt like it, but he wasn’t going to complain. Ralph was smart, had learned his lessons the hard way.

 

They all had. 

 

The sounds of Reno taking a shower reminded him that he still had three incriminating slips of paper in his hand, and that the redhead was unlikely to be so deferential to Ray. 

 

He dragged the ashtray over to him, lit the corner of the papers with his Zippo, watched as they burned and crumpled, crumbling into ash and filling the living room with an acrid tang. 

 

All the while Ralph watched him calmly, as though Ray had just done the most inane thing in the world. 

 

“Did one of you try to cook or something?” The lanky redhead was sauntering over to the table, hair dripping wet and leaving little puddles on the wooden surface as he reached for a mug. 

 

Ralph snorted, lighting another cigarette. “Think this rich kid even knows how to turn the gas on?”

 

Reno snickered, filling his mug with more whisky than coffee. “Especially since you probably sniffed it all, Rocket boy?"

 

Ray rolled his eyes, settled back into their usual harmless banter. 

 

_Easy like Sunday morning._

 

##

 

Sephiroth wasn’t sure whether to be amused or irritated. Rufus Shinra thought far too highly of himself. 

 

As soon as the Disney Princesses had left, limping and smiling vapidly, the General had dug the bugs out and tossed them in the microwave oven, tapping the “DEFROST” button and walking off as the listening devices sizzled and crackled. 

 

The silver-haired man knew Lara had spent the weekend with the Vice President. Zack had mentioned it last night as he’d been leaving. 

 

Rufus Shinra seemed to believe he owned everyone who worked for his father, had full rights to their lives by virtue of his sire paying their salaries. The General couldn’t blame the prostitutes for doing as they’d been paid or threatened to do - it wouldn’t be fair to, especially when he knew how ruthless the Vice President could be. 

 

Sephiroth reminded himself that he would retire as soon as the younger Shinra became President. The fat despot at least feared him, depended on Sephiroth to fight his battles for him, didn’t want to risk the General ever leaving.

 

Rufus Shinra had no such concerns. Sephiroth had heard of weapons being developed in secret that had the potential to wipe out entire cities at the push of a button. 

 

If such destructive power existed, there would be no need for SOLDIERs anymore. The Vice President could destroy anyone at whim, could obliterate all enemies - real and perceived - as he fancied. 

 

And if that day ever came, Sephiroth would raise his Masamune without hesitation - this time against the corporation that had created him. 

 

He’d seen far too much of the world to believe the lies any longer. As much as they tried to brainwash him constantly through Force and Science and Subliminal Messages, they hadn’t planned on Angeal and Zack coming into his life. 

 

They hadn’t planned on Genesis going AWOL and showing Sephiroth the evils of entitlement - the effects of great power without any form of responsibility, of greed and arrogance unchecked. 

 

And he knew he had responsibilities. To his men, to their families, to everyone who wanted to live happy, peaceful lives free from war and suffering. 

 

He had nothing against Wutai personally. Had fought them at first because those had been his orders, fought them now because it was a war of ideology and he could honestly see the logic behind the unification of all city states, behind having a stable power source that provided energy to everyone, a single currency that facilitated the flow of trade and goods. He respected Wutai’s fierce independence, acknowledged their battle prowess and determination to die on their feet rather than live on their knees as subjects of Shinra - but he also knew that the Invisible Hands of economics and capitalism always prevailed. History had proven it time and time again: that, left to their own devices, independent cities wouldn’t be able to harness their comparative and competitive advantages to ensure maximum efficiency and utility, would be bogged down by petty squabbles and differences of opinion.

 

But mostly he fought because so many had already fallen, it would be a betrayal to their memories if he stopped. 

 

If he declared a cease fire, then what had they died for? 

 

_Catch-22._

 

He couldn’t win the war without incurring more losses, sending more men home in body bags and urns. 

 

But he couldn’t lay down his sword without dishonoring every single warrior who had given the ultimate sacrifice. 

 

The sound of glass shattering jolted him from his thoughts. He looked down, saw that he’d clenched his hand too tight around the obnoxious “World’s Best Boss" mug Zack had bought him while lost in his musings. 

 

Part of the mug, a shard that held the word “BOSS” was lying on the counter, its red border growing slowly.

 

It reminded him of Cloud's new nickname. 

 

_STRIFE. His name is STRIFE._

 

Everything reminded him of Strife these days. He needed to stop allowing Zack to send the Disney Princesses to his apartment, to stop the First from selecting blond-haired blue-eyed bed partners for him.

 

He knew what his second-in-command was up to. He didn’t like it.

 

_Who do you think you’re kidding?_

 

That voice sounded like his black-haired friend. He pushed it away, focused on cleaning up before the real-life Zack barged into his penthouse as the First was wont to do every Sunday. 

 

Why the other man couldn’t just mess up his own apartment was beyond Sephiroth. 

 

As he picked shards out of his hand, watching as his enhancements worked overtime to seal cuts shut, he thought back to the past two nights. 

 

He’d been fortunate to have the Disney Princesses over since Friday night to distract him. But occasionally he’d get flashes of Strife - panting, moaning, writhing, _begging_ \- that disoriented him and threw off his rhythm

 

If Zack’s intel was right, the blond was probably ‘getting jiggy’ (Zack’s words, not his) with the boys he was particularly close to - those four on the SOLDIER and Turk watch lists.

 

Sephiroth refused to consider how he felt about Strife being gangbanged. Refused to acknowledge the uncomfortable feelings that rose within him every time he recalled the marks he’d seen on the blond cadet’s arms that night, which his peripheral vision had stored in his subconscious and called to fore on one of the many occasions the memory of the meeting had assailed him. 

 

Refused to pay attention to the growls within his chest at the thought of Cloud being at the mercy of anyone but _him_.

 

Another loud _crack_ , and this time Sephiroth realized he’d gripped the edge of the sink hard enough to break marble. 

 

This would take some creative explaining, or some very deadly glares.

 

Zack would notice, no doubt. The kitchen was the first place the Perky Pest hit whenever he came upstairs. 

 

Sephiroth sighed as he heard the elevator _ding_. 

 

_No rest for the wicked._

 

He should have put Zack on weekend duty as planned. 

 

“GOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDD MORNING, SEPH!!!!”

 

The silver-haired man wondered what he’d done to deserve this. 

 

As expected, the hedgehog had made a beeline for the kitchen, and was now standing next to him, no doubt giving him that coolly assessing stare that Sephiroth would never admit unnerved him slightly. 

 

Only slightly. And only because it meant more headaches for him.

 

He ignored the black-haired man, turned and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge before heading to the living room. Zack helped himself to a bottle of whisky before following Sephiroth out, plonking himself down on the sofa like a fat hen on her eggs. 

 

He supposed he should be glad the First was barefoot today. Then he wondered if he should be worried the other man had foregone his usual attempt at giving himself diabetes. 

 

It took him all of five seconds to realize his worries were entirely founded. Zack still hadn’t said a word, was still watching him with that eerie quiet that was so unlike the First. 

 

Sephiroth blamed the lack of sleep and the uncomfortable…visions…on the fact that he broke first and turned to his second-in-command, reassured himself that he hadn’t ‘lost’, was only checking to see if his Brigadier General was in good health.

 

His inner-Zack snorted in derision. He’d really been spending far too much time with the black-haired SOLDIER.

 

The hard look was gone, replaced by one of concern. 

 

“Everything OK, Seph?” The General was growing more worried by the minute. Zack was NEVER this soft-spoken, unless they were on a Covert Ops mission.

 

He shrugged - blamed it on all the time he’d spent with Zack - turned back towards a blank TV and wished he’d had the presence of mind to turn it on to distract Zack with pretty colors.

 

He felt the sofa dip as his friend leaned towards him, invading his personal space the way Zack did so effortlessly and easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do.

 

Sephiroth had been uncomfortable with it at first, but he was beginning to get far too accustomed to the First’s poor manners. 

 

“Is this about Cloud?” No need to look to know that Zack had that godforsaken twinkle in his deep blue eyes again. 

 

He refused to give the man the satisfaction of a response, credited years of suffering silently in the labs for his total stillness. 

 

Zack was unfazed, as usual. Or maybe he wasn't, because his next words were clearly an attack on Sephiroth’s presence of mind. “If you like him so much, I could arrange for you guys to have dinner together.” 

 

The General started as this time the cap of his water bottle flew off and icy water doused his lap. He’d squeezed the plastic container too hard. 

 

This was becoming ridiculous. 

 

Beside him, Zack snorted but had enough self-control not to laugh out loud. 

 

He wondered at his own lack of self-control these days. 

 

Thankfully, the sudden splash of cold had shocked him back to his senses. He was the General, for God’s sake. The greatest living warrior the world had ever known, the most feared man on the Planet - a Living Legend who commanded thousands of elite fighters who were ready to do his bidding at a moment’s notice. 

 

He was NOT acting a fool because of one very pretty little cadet with eyes that seared into his soul.

 

He ignored Zack, reached for the remote and switched the TV on. Heard the First _tch_ in annoyance and wanted to pat himself on the back.

 

_Elementary, my dear Zachary._

 

## 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: ‘Klick’ is US Marine jargon for 1,000 meters or 1 kilometer; "Head” is Marine jargon for bathroom; “Mess hall” is the canteen.
> 
> A/N 2: Some internet slang included, such as “Bye, Felicia”, "turnt", “squad goals”, “slay" and "yasss".  
> 
> A/N 3: "Anybody don’t wanna get killed, better head on out the back” is a quote from the film Unforgiven. 
> 
> A/N 4: “Cake hole” is reference to my favorite TV series: Supernatural. One of Dean Winchester’s iconic lines is “driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole.”
> 
> A/N 5: "Never send a machine to do a human’s job” is a play on Agent Smith’s “never send a human to do a machine’s job” line from Matrix.
> 
> A/N 6: The riddle in the code cracking part is from a Google search for "hard number riddles” - it's not my invention (the Battle Sims challenge of the keys + sets + doors is based on various games I’ve played). How it’s solved: "Each number describes the previous number. Starting with 1, the second line describes it 11 (one 1). Then the third line describes 11 as 21 (two 1’s). Then the fourth line describes 21 as 1211 (one 2, one 1). This is the pattern."
> 
> A/N 7: The War is beginning to encroach on everyone, given the cadets are approaching the end of training. Also, am starting to add more ‘realism’ to the story (it’s kind of a theme this chapter) - I will keep my own political views out of this piece as much as possible, so I hope everyone understands that this is a work of fiction and I am not trying to offend anyone with my words. 
> 
> A/N 8: The part about the Godfather giving Corneo an offer he couldn’t refuse, including his capo holding a gun to Corneo’s head and threatening to blow his brains out over a contract is lifted from the film Godfather - when Michael tells Kay about his father and Luca Brasi. Other mafia references in this chapter (definitions from the Godfather Wiki):
> 
> \- A “capo” or “caporegime” is someone who is in charge of a group of soldiers and enforcers who report directly to him. A capo is appointed by the boss and reports directly to him or the underboss.  
> \- An “enforcer” is the lowest ranking made member of a crime family. They’re usually responsible for handling those who don’t go along with family rules or policies.   
> \- “A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man” is a quote from Godfather (Vito Corleone to Johnny Fontane). Side note: Yes, Jared is sort of named after Johnny Fontane from Godfather. I was stumped for names and happened to be watching Godfather when I ‘created’ Jared.   
> \- A “Consigliere” is an advisor to the family and sometimes seen as the Boss’ “right-hand man”.   
> A/N 9: "Pavlov’s bitch” is a reference to a classical conditioning experiment by Russian physiologist Ivan Pavlov on his dogs.
> 
> A/N 10: Oliver Twist references in the Reno POV in the slums, because Dickens. Also Spider from GoT because even though I’m not a GoT fan (no flames, please!), the name alludes to a ‘spider’s web’ and the old “Will you walk into my parlor?” poem. 
> 
> A/N 11: I am NOT a scientist. I majored in business but I did read physics and advanced math up to college-level. So please excuse the lack of astrophysical understanding in my attempt to explain the whole time-travel thing. (Then again, this is a fanfic about a video game called Final Fantasy 7 where people can dodge bullets, jump up to the top of a building, take down a massive summoned creature with a giant sword, sprout wings, and set another person on fire by concentrating on a little green ball, so…)
> 
> A/N 12: I realize that AVALANCHE (the first iteration, under Elfe) only kicks up after the Wutai War. But Aeris did mention that Cloud’s return has changed things (Ref: Chapter 1).
> 
> A/N 13: "Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.” is from the Sherlock episode The Great Game. Also a reference to the TV series Lucifer thrown in. And paraphrases of lines from other movies as usual.
> 
> A/N 14: The paraphrased “I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees” in the final Seph POV (when he’s thinking about Wutai) is a quote attributable to Emiliano Zapata, a leading figure in the Mexican Revolution against the dictatorship of Porfirio Diaz (Source: Wikipedia). 
> 
> A/N 15: 24,834 words, excluding a total of 16 author’s notes. I may switch to writing shorter chapters as suggested by Smiling Seshat - while I have a lot of ideas I’d like to put across, pumping out such long chapters fast enough takes a toll on my sleep and vocabulary. Will try my best to update soon.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost Karma - Chapter 10
> 
> By StarSongVII
> 
> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, yaoi, and smut. Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read. 
> 
> A/N 1: For ease of reference, I’m going to be including information on day of the week, time of day, and countdown when there are ‘skips’ as I am trying to speed up the progression slightly. This is due to the map of the overall story (which I finally created earlier this month) showing that the fic would most likely clock in at about 57 chapters once complete. 
> 
> A/N 2: Ridiculously fast update (by my track record) because the Muses refused to leave. Muses will be sealed away temporarily as I try to recover from my cold and focus on work. 
> 
> A/N 3: LifeOfTheMind, there's definitely something within these 20,939 words (excluding notes) that will make you love me forever ;)

 

**\- Monday. 2000 hours. 11 weeks to SOLDIER Exams -**

 

Cloud winced slightly as the groin kicks and groin knees they were practising pulled his back. The weekend had done a number on him - he’d had a temperature on Sunday (which he’d chalked up to exhaustion) and had caused a mild panic with his Saturday Night Fever.

 

_You can't fuck the future. The future fucks you._

 

Somehow a doctor had seen him within twenty minutes of Jared calling out to the others - a kindly old man who didn’t look like he belonged in the slums, whose leather case was pristine, and who had dispensed medicine that wasn’t expired or expiring. 

 

The others had stuffed him full of fluids and soup ( _where the hell had the soup even COME from? It'd been good and “wholesome", nothing like typical slum fare_ ), refused to allow him to walk around any longer after he’d eaten and marched him straight back to the bunker, shoving him into bed despite his protests that _he was_ _fine,_ _he_ _wasn’t a weakling,_ _it was_ _too damn early, and he WAS FINE_.

 

It had been a little embarrassing - alright, who was he kidding, it had been a _lot_ embarrassing - being babied like that in front of the rest of his bunk mates and fellow cadets. But Cloud had to admit the others had been surprisingly thoughtful as usual, telling the rest that Cloud had simply consumed some odd alcoholic mix in the slums and was feeling the effects.

 

Though he wasn’t sure how happy he felt with the thought that the others believed him a total lightweight.

 

A twinge as his back was pulled again, and he refocused. They were learning a new discipline in private training with Zack today - an art created by Sephiroth himself, called Krav Maga. It apparently meant “close combat” in an ancient language, and was essentially an amalgamation of every ‘effective’ killing / control strike from every other martial art in existence, refined for military use by the General over multiple practice sessions.

 

Cloud wondered if Zack had received clearance to teach cadets such deadly techniques. 

 

The dark-haired SOLDIER seemed entirely too…much today. Perkier and more attentive than usual, eyes sparkling a little more than normal. 

 

Zack's muchness was clearly back with a vengeance, since he was much more muchier than usual.

 

Cloud had obviously tumbled down the rabbit hole long ago.

 

The blond wondered if something had happened to put the First in such a good mood. Wondered why it seemed to be directed at him.

 

By the end of private training, the blond was glad the others had made him go to bed earlier than usual yesterday, Ray and Reno casually sitting on either side of him chatting and copying homework in order to calm Cloud down, somehow knowing he didn’t want to sleep in full view of everyone else while the lights were on. 

 

He felt good, despite the slightly sore back muscles. And it wasn’t because he’d had a dreamless sleep last night (he’d been slightly disappointed when he’d woken up) - it’d been too long since he’d gotten enough rest, and their…'activities' from the weekend had purged the tension that always snowballed over the week. 

 

Zack was dismissing them, but asking Cloud to 'hang back for a sec, chicky’. 

 

_Chicky?_

 

He wondered again at his old friend’s extra-bubbly behavior. 

 

Once the instructors had left, the familiar weight around his shoulders made him want to warble with joy. 

 

“Had a good weekend there, Cloudy?” The words made him freeze, but it was the twinkle in Zack’s eyes confounded him. 

 

Why was Zack so glad that Cloud was being…frisky?

 

Why was Zack so happy that Cloud was getting it on with someone who wasn’t Sephiroth?

 

He kicked himself internally. He’d never told the black-haired man about his feelings for the General - at least, he didn’t think so. God knows what he’d said under influence of the drugs and Mako and whatever else Hojo had pumped into him.

 

A chuckle, and his hair was being ruffled again, thoughts of the sadistic scientist shaken out of his head. He refocused on deep blue eyes, saw the gentle understanding in them alongside amusement and something else, relaxed slightly. 

 

“No need to freak out, kiddo,” Zack was leading them out of the training hall. “I’m NOT happy about it,” a stern glare and Cloud froze up again, almost missed the next part of what Zack was saying, “BUT I suppose it’s only physical needs and doesn’t mean anything coz you’re still single, huh?” The twinkles were…twinklier. 

 

Cloud should have listened to his friends and taken his meds at lunch. He was pretty sure his fever was back with a vengeance.

 

“ANYWAY,” they were out of the hall, strolling casually towards the other cadets who were waiting further along the corridor. “Come over this Saturday, say 1500?”

 

The blond dimly realized he hadn’t said a word to Zack the whole time, simply staring with wider and wider eyes at the SOLDIER. 

 

They were within earshot of the others by now. The dark-haired man turned to the cadets, who stood at respectful attention, waved them down. “You’re all invited - I’ll have food and drinks ready. And games and DVDs and whatever else you boys have been missing out on." 

 

Cloud wanted to kick the others for accepting the invitation so coolly, like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. Except Brian, of course, whose jaw was touching the floor. 

 

Cloud always could count on Brian to make him look good.

 

_Silly._

 

That voice sounded like Aeris’ - fond, amused, exasperated, and…

 

_Aeris!_

 

The blond cursed himself a million ways to Hojo’s lab as he remembered the green-eyed angel’s sorrow when she’d mentioned Zack. She was waiting for him in her church, and he didn’t even know her yet.

 

He peeked up at Zack, noticed the First was still watching him with sparkly eyes reminiscent of a night sky full of stars. 

 

That was it. He’d introduce them somehow, and soon. 

 

But first, he needed information. Was Zack…attached now? Did he have someone else? 

 

Cloud didn’t want to see Aeris upset. She was the most beautiful person in the world, and she deserved only happiness. 

 

He smiled up at the First, knew it always worked, and smiled wider when he saw proof of its efficacy. “Only if you’re sure we won’t be bothering you.” He added a slight concerned frown for good measure.

 

Somehow Zack’s eyes brightened even more at those words. “Not at all, Spiky! Be my pleasure!” His hair was ruffled again and he wanted to cry with joy.

 

“Alrighty then, it’s a date!” Zack winked as he said the same words as he had last week when he’d invited them over for dinner. Before Cloud could process the similarities - before he could begin to _hope_ \- the First had pushed him towards his friends - he stumbled slightly - and given him a light slap on his lower back which made his already tight muscles twinge again. 

 

“Get a good rest, boys. See you tomorrow!” The SOLDIER waved at them cheerfully before turning and jogging off towards the Senior Officers’ Blocks. 

 

Cloud assumed his fever was acting up again. He was feeling a little disoriented, everything was happening so fast and yet not fast enough at all.

 

Ralph whistled. “This fam be goals, man.” Cloud wondered why the other boys often used grammar he didn’t understand. He was pretty sure they were all speaking English, but nothing seemed to make sense. 

 

“Saturdays in the SOBs, bae,” Jared leered, leaning against Brian who meep’ed.

 

_What the hell is a ‘bae’?!_

 

Was this some old new-fangled slang that young people used? The others in Team Fenrir seemed to be familiar with it too, given the odd words everyone had spouted when they’d won Battle Sims last week.

 

Cloud needed to rest. Sleep would make everything better, he was sure of it. He was too old for this.

 

He hoped it’d be dreamless. And he hoped the General would come looking for DVDs again this weekend. 

 

Aeris and Ray seemed to believe he stood a chance with the silver-haired man - while the female brunette was an eternal optimist, the male was pragmatic and wouldn’t say something like that for no reason…right?

 

He wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to ‘resonating' again. On the one hand it was proof of their ‘bond’, as Aeris had termed it. On the other hand, it was downright embarrassing to know their thoughts were linked sometimes - no matter how far apart they were. No matter what they were doing, no matter what happened. 

 

Like Destiny was calling, like the Lifestream was telling them to get their acts together and stop screwing around. Literally. 

 

_Resonance of Fate._

 

##

 

Zack skipped back towards his apartment, badly wanting to do the Spazzing Seal but Sephiroth wasn’t here to appreciate it. 

 

He laughed at the memory of his superior officer literally wetting himself over a small comment about dinner with Cloud. 

 

That proved it. He’d get those two together if it was the last thing he did. No one had ever gotten under the General’s skin as much as the tiny blond, no one had ever intrigued the unflappable Legend as much as the little cadet with the jewels from the sky.

 

_Cloud, blue eyes, jewels from the sky - geddit, geddit?_

 

He wished his commander was here to listen to his brilliant new pun.

 

As he neared the Alpha Tower, he spotted a familiar figure nearing the doors.

 

_Speak of the devil._

 

The General had obviously just left the office, heading home with more paperwork tucked into his sleek leather Zegna ‘business bag’ - a gift from Lazard last Christmas. The silver-haired man’s eyebrows had twitched when Zack had referred to it as a briefcase, and the First suspected it was because Sephiroth associated briefcases with stodgy Heads of Departments. 

 

The light breeze had carried Zack’s scent to his commander - the taller SOLDIER had stopped and turned slightly, waiting for him. 

 

_Bad day at work, huh?_

 

When Sephiroth spent too much time in meetings and dealing with the other sycophants that filled Shinra, he tended to gravitate towards Zack’s company. It hadn’t been this way at first - the silver-haired man had pushed Zack away literally and figuratively in the beginning while he licked his wounds in private, kept everything to himself and brooded all alone in his massive penthouse like Batman in his Batcave. 

 

But Zack was tenacious, and he _understood_. He knew what his superior officer was going through, knew the man didn’t want anyone else dying in this war, knew Sephiroth abhorred paperwork and politics. 

 

Zack couldn’t stop Death, refused to do any administrative nonsense (alright, it was selfish of him but he was only human), wasn’t able to get between Sephiroth and the hypocrites that swarmed Shinra Tower. But he could be a friend - someone to listen, to stay by the General’s side through thick and thin, always ready to be a shield against the darkness, always providing a safe space for the lonely SOLDIER to retreat to when things got too much even for him. 

 

He looked forward to the day when Cloud would give Sephiroth a home: somewhere to let the mask and guard down and just be free, at peace, completely himself - just a Man, not a Myth. God knew the General deserved it more than anyone - always trying to be strong, always trying to be unbreakable and perfect for everyone else.

 

_Always trying to save humanity from hell._

 

The man’s shoulders were stronger than Hercules’, but even he would crumble under the weight of the world eventually.

 

He reached his commander in seconds, noticed how those broad shoulders hadn’t stooped despite how tired Sephiroth must be, seeing as the General had been called to an emergency meeting early yesterday evening and had stayed in the office till now - knew it was only pride and years of habit keeping his posture military perfect, could read the exhaustion and sorrow in glowing emerald eyes.

 

_More deaths._

 

The General only had that look when he’d gotten bad news from the front. Only escaped to his beloved solitude when he didn’t trust his mask not to crack a little.

 

That the silver-haired man allowed Zack to see him like this spoke volumes to the Gongagan. 

 

He smiled at Sephiroth, knew too much bounciness would send his commander running for shelter, kept his tone more muted than when he’d spoken to Cloud.

 

“Hey, boss.” 

 

The reference to Cloud’s nickname was intentional. What better time to hit Sephiroth than when he was feeling down?

 

The General wasn’t a puppy - he could take it. And Zack seldom referred to his commander this way, saved it for occasions when he had to remind Sephiroth that he wasn’t alone - that he had Zack and thousands of men willing to back him up in a heartbeat. 

 

Sephiroth nodded at him, those green eyes flickering slightly. Zack had landed both hits.

 

_Two birds, one stone._

 

He kept his smile gentle, his voice low. “I’m hungry. Delivery?”

 

Zack had stuffed his face with pizza earlier along with some of the other Firsts for tea, but his mother had told him that warm food made everyone feel better. 

 

_And mom always knows best._

 

He hadn’t called her in a while, actually. She always tried to sound happy when they spoke, proud of him and confident he’d win no matter who he was up against, but he knew. Tseng had been in Gongaga recently, had told Zack about the desperate light in his mother’s eyes when she’d approached the long-haired Turk to politely ask after her son, about the way her shoulders had sagged with relief when she’d heard he was spending only half his time away from Midgar these days. 

 

It hurt Zack that his choice of career was taking a toll on his parents. But he wanted to save the world, to protect, to serve, to _help_. 

 

When the War was over, he’d settle down and give them grandchildren. 

 

_When this cruel war is over._

 

Sephiroth nodded, didn’t speak because he clearly didn’t trust his voice not to give him away in front of the guards and the receptionist, started walking towards the elevator.

 

Zack flipped his phone open, dialled for Wutaian. It was Sephiroth’s favorite cuisine. 

 

And Cloud’s too, if he recalled correctly, remembering the way the little cadet had closed his eyes in bliss at the first bite of dinner last Wednesday. Or maybe the blond was just glad to have some real food after so long. 

 

He’d find out more about the Nibelheim boy’s likes and dislikes soon, feed them to Sephiroth somehow. Zack didn’t want his commander screwing this up. The man might have been a genius, but he was a total noob in matters of the heart.

 

Making sure Cloud had been given part of the disc to the control room in Battle Sims had probably been the silver-haired man’s idea of a token of affection.

 

Zack wanted to do the Spazzing Seal again at that thought, but he didn’t want to jar his commander, not with the state he was in currently. Sephiroth might have nerves of steel, but he was just a man. 

 

Just another person trying to make the world a better place.

 

_You’re not alone, Seph._

 

If things worked out with Cloud, the General would never have to feel lonely again.

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 1225 hours. -**

 

Reno tensed as soon as he caught sight of the blonde woman in the slinky gown. He knew who she was, and he didn’t like her. 

 

No one except the President did, if his intel was accurate. 

 

The cadets were on their way to lunch from hand-to-hand, and Scarlet was blocking their path. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Cloud tense slightly, right hand curling into a fist as the blond reached for his butterfly knife subconsciously. Reno wondered how he’d signal to the other boy that it was a Very Bad Idea to attack the Head of Weapons Development, realized he didn’t have to when the smaller cadet apparently came to his senses and saluted the crab bitch.

 

He wondered why the blond disliked the blonde so much. Was Cloud averse to manipulative whores?

 

_Who isn’t?_

 

A light nudge from Ralph, and Reno saluted the sadistic slut together with his fellow cadets. 

 

“Well, well, well, what have we here,” her perfume made him want to gag. As did her outfit. It might have been expensive, but money clearly couldn’t buy taste or good sense. 

 

This was a military base. Not a damn cabaret or strip show.

 

_Fucking homicidal hooker._

 

“The infamous Team Fenrir,” she purred. Reno wondered how the color blue could remind him of so many things - Cloud’s eyes always reminded Reno of the sky: at times darkened slightly as though heralding a storm, at times far away and unreachable like the heavens, at times wide and bright like a clear sunny day. 

 

Scarlet’s reminded him of the color of the rotting growth on the scraps he'd fished out of drains and trash bins as a child. Of the faces of people he’d strangled. It was an ugly shade. 

 

It reminded him of the color of the orphans she'd taken from the slums and tested biological weapons on before unceremoniously dumping their twisted bodies back below the Plate. 

 

No one would miss another street rat, after all. 

 

The ratchet ass hoe was leaning over the small blond cadet, cloying perfume no doubt making the Nibelheim boy want to retch. To Cloud's credit, he stood immobile, still holding his salute. 

 

"My, what a pretty little thing YOU are," she leered, reaching out a blood red claw to touch a soft cheek. The color reminded Reno of the body parts he’d stumbled upon before, discarded by the side of train tracks as Shinra employees casually walked off talking about how their transmitters were improving, how they still needed to find a way to activate bombs remotely once signals were jammed. 

 

Reno saw Ray shift slightly out of the corner of his eye. The brunette was still holding a perfect salute since the evil bitch hadn’t told them to stand at ease, but as Reno turned slightly he was glad they had the Godfather's son on their side. 

 

Those eyes were deadlier than the Masamune’s blade - sharp, cold and positively lethal as they glinted silver at the Murderous Bitch, whose crimson talon stopped an inch from Cloud’s face. Reno turned back in time to catch a flash of fear in putrid blue eyes before painted lips twisted in a sneer as she hissed at the smaller blond: “Well aren’t you a popular little thing, hmm?” 

 

Reno could read the tension in the line of Cloud’s shoulders, knew it wasn’t from holding his salute. 

 

Then those vicious eyes flicked to Reno’s right, and he felt Ralph turn rigid.

 

The sneer looked more real this time as Scarlet turned to leave. “Good luck, Team Fenrir. God knows you’ll need it, with another cocky loser on your team.”

 

She took a few steps away - Reno thought she was trying to be seductive, swaying her hips like that, but he just wanted to hurl - before twisting slightly to look back at Ralph. “Don’t be a failure like that uncle of yours, sweetheart. Pride comes before the fall, after all.”

 

Her cackles echoed in the corridor long after she disappeared from sight. Reno hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until he started to see stars, hadn’t realized he’d clenched his left hand tight until he felt the pricks of pain. 

 

Cloud had turned to Ralph, was watching the black-haired cadet with a look of concern. When Reno glanced over, he understood why.

 

The Rocket Towner was furious - face, neck and the top of his chest flushed crimson, eyes slitted into angry dark streaks, fists balled at his side as he trembled with rage. 

 

He heard Cloud murmur to the others, heard Grant’s rumbled response, and suddenly it was just the five of them in that fluorescent space that felt colder than usual. 

 

They waited, silent, not wanting to set Ralph off as he struggled visibly to control himself and get a handle on his emotions. Reno had never seen the other boy so mad - as much as Ralph often got irritated or yelled, he always remained somewhat restrained, somewhat held back. 

 

At length Ralph took a deep breath, exhaled loudly through his mouth, unclenched his fists which were dripping blood on the cement floor. 

 

Cloud moved then, did something that shocked them all. 

 

The small blond had to tip toe slightly to place his head on Ralph’s shoulder as he hugged the black-haired boy.

 

Reno could see Ralph was as stunned as they all were. Cloud NEVER touched anyone like that, never reciprocated the hugs he received whenever they won Battle Sims, always kept his hands to himself.

 

It seemed the action was too much for Ralph, as a tear slipped down a high cheekbone before dark eyes closed and he was holding Cloud tight, face buried in the crook of the smaller boy’s neck. Reno hadn’t realized he’d moved, but suddenly they were all gathered around the hugging boys, patting Ralph on the shoulder, the back, the arm, anyplace they could reach. 

 

When Ralph finally released Cloud and they stepped back, his dark eyes looked redder than normal. His face was still slightly flushed, but it was slowly settling back into his familiar nonchalant expression. 

 

Cloud nodded at the Rocket Towner - they’d talk about this _later_ \- and turned, heading to the mess hall. Ralph was wiping his palms on his fatigues, leaving streaks and splotches on the cheap prints.

 

Grant and the others had gotten their food for them, waited for the five to be seated before digging in to their meals.

 

Reno usually wanted to know everything he could because Knowledge Was Power, and Information Was Money. 

 

This time though, he only wanted to know how to make Ralph feel better. And if it helped him make that bitch scream, then that was a plus. 

 

He still remembered the glassy eyes, the terrified expressions frozen in death on the faces of the children, some little more than toddlers. 

 

Reno had grown up tough, always looking out for Number One, not caring about others, not caring about what he’d had to do to survive. But even he had his limits. 

 

And Scarlet had crossed the line. 

 

The Savage Slut would pay for what she’d done to the Children of Midgar. He’d make sure of it. The best walls and locks Shinra could buy wouldn’t stop a Turk - they were too fly for that shit. 

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 2330 hours. -**

 

Ralph lay awake in his bunk as the Symphony of Slumber played around him, snores and snorts, rustles as cadets turned over in their beds. 

 

He needed to sleep, but the emotional rollercoaster he’d ridden today was messing with his head.

 

It was that woman’s fault. Everything was that woman’s fault. 

 

He clenched his fists again, winced as his nails pressed into the bandage covering crescent marks.

 

The memory of the others gently tending to his self-induced wounds calmed his racing heart. 

 

They’d been sitting in the common area, Ray having gotten some medical items from one of his many undercover agents. Cloud had been cleaning his right hand, and Ralph recalled being somewhat surprised at the gentle efficiency of the smaller boy. Almost as though patching injuries was something he was very familiar with. 

 

He hadn’t really wanted to talk about it, but at the same time he’d felt like he really wanted to tell them what was going on.  

 

In the end, he hadn’t said much. Hadn’t had to because somehow the other four understood. 

 

He took a breath quietly, exhaled silently and turned on his side. 

 

That woman would pay for what she’d done, one day. 

 

While it was true that it had been partly Uncle Cid’s arrogance, none of it would have gone ass over tits if it hadn’t been for that conniving wretch. 

 

He still remembered the looks on his parents faces when they’d reminisced about how the Space Cowboys used to be, how “Starfleet" had been a gathering spot for the great minds who sought adventure, who wanted to change the world and make it a better, brighter, more wonderful place through science and technology. 

 

The name of their little encampment had stuck thanks to Uncle Cid’s lofty ambitions, his dreams of becoming the first astronaut in the world. Where before it had been a moniker that signified the power of mind over matter - of humanity's ingenuity and mastery over the world, of curiosity and pushing the limits in the name of Mankind - now it was nothing but a mockery of their passion, leaving only a bitter taste in their mouths when they were reminded of that incident. 

 

He’d seen the old recording, after he’d dusted off the tape hidden behind spare parts and tools in the shed. 

 

Uncle Cid had been younger then - vibrant and carefree with his signature cigarette clenched between his teeth - talking to the camera passionately as others behind him laughed around the campfire. 

 

"No, come to think of it, if I had to, I'd put my faith in science,” his uncle had said, voice not yet as rough as it was when Ralph had left. "Because of science, humans who used to crawl around on the ground can now fly, and soon we're about to go into space! I've earned my living thanks to science, so to me, there's nothing greater.”

 

In the background, beyond the warm flicker of flames, Ralph had been able to make out the silhouette of an unfinished Enterprise - that rocket that was being built to take them further than anyone had ever gone before, and maybe, one day, take them to the far reaches of space, the Final Frontier. 

 

If it hadn’t been for that Witch, Ralph’s uncle wouldn’t resort to living bottle to bottle, bitterly hiding himself in his trailer refusing to face the light of day, only occasionally recognizing Ralph enough to unlock the door and let him in to teach him something new, show him some old sketches and designs; only getting in the pilot’s seat when Shinra ordered him to fly their SOLDIERs to remote locations.

 

If it hadn’t been for that Bitch…

 

Ralph wouldn’t have had to work for anyone who would pay - usually gangbangers wanting souped up rides, weapons that made people piss their pants at the sight of them - wouldn't have had to grit his teeth at the shame of selling his inventions for money to help support his parents and Uncle Cid, to help patch their little town up after yet another gunfight between Wutai and Shinra; wouldn’t have had to participate in the Races - those illegal Rides to the Death that promised gil for guts. 

 

If it hadn’t been for that crank whore…

 

Ralph would never have met Jared. Never have come to the cadet program and met the others. 

 

Never have met _her_.

 

He shut his eyes tight, as though it would block out the memory of those sweet brown eyes that closed forever thanks to him. 

 

Someone coughed, and it reminded him of the way Uncle Cid had almost hacked out his lungs that morning when Ralph was catching the transport to Midgar. 

 

The embittered man had been screaming, struggling to stand on unsteady feet as the sight of his only nephew - _his little copilot_ \- leaving to join the very bastards who’d destroyed them shocked him from his drunken haze. He’d tried to run after Ralph, tripped over his own feet and crashed into trash bins. 

 

Ralph had wanted to run to his uncle, help him to his feet and back into his trailer - his sanctuary - away from the eyes of the other townspeople who doubtless blamed Uncle Cid for everything. 

 

But he’d made a deal. 

 

No matter how much the scorn and pain in his uncle’s eyes hurt, no matter how much the anger and bitterness in his uncle’s words of _traitor_ and _sellout_ hurt, he couldn’t stay. It was the only way to protect them all. 

 

His uncle had howled from his position on the ground as the transport pulled away, coughed painfully as the exertion and 10 years of living off cigarettes, alcohol and leftovers sequestered away from the world (except for when Shinra needed him) caused his body to react violently to the exposure. 

 

Ralph had never believed in God - his parents and his uncle were physicists and engineers, to them there was only cold, hard logic - but in that moment, he’d prayed that his family would understand one day. 

 

He’d prayed for the strength to prove to them that the true Rocket Town spirit, _the Space Cowboys' spirit_ \- that indomitable soul thirsty for knowledge and adventure, that passionate psyche seeking only to push the boundaries and expand their horizons - had prevailed despite Shinra. 

 

He hadn’t realized until recently that the Godfather’s son who’d spared his life and told him to join SOLDIER before he’d be allowed home was a fellow cadet - Ray Johnson had been using a voice changer and had covered his camera as he spoke to the soldiers surrounding Ralph. 

 

He wondered if Ray had done it on purpose because he’d planned on joining the cadet program too and wanted someone who owed him there. Thinking back though, the brunette had never once done anything to indicate he was going to collect from Ralph, never done anything to give himself away. While the Junon boy had possibly been biding his time, Ralph got the feeling Ray hadn’t made him that deal for the pleasure of his company. 

 

Even though it _was_ pleasurable.

 

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

 

Speaking of sex…

 

He really hadn’t liked what that bitch had insinuated about Cloud, was pretty sure they'd all wanted to rip the sneer of that hoe's face when she'd said it. 

 

They’d been concerned last week that the blond would hear the rumors flying about him, but thankfully the Nibelheim cadet had remained as obtuse as ever (likely a result of his exhaustion) and Ray had taken care of it before the situation escalated. 

 

Then that evil whore had had to look at Cloud like that, talk to Boss-man like that. 

 

He’d seen the way Cloud had swam earlier, knew the blond had been controlling himself through lunch and Drill Training until he’d been underwater with his eyes hidden by goggles. And yet Cloud hadn’t said a word, had focused only on making sure Ralph was ok. 

 

Ralph felt like a selfish asswipe.

 

He peered at where Cloud’s bunk was, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to see the other boy in the dark despite his keen sight. 

 

He’d check on Cloud tomorrow, make sure Boss-man knew that none of them thought of him as a whore, that those were just things they said in the heat of the moment. Cloud was too sweet and too honorable to ever be in the same category as that psycho bitch. 

 

He’d noticed him back then in the transport - thought at the time that the punkass expression the tiny kid was trying to wear was ill-suited for his delicate features, wondered how long the patsy would survive in the program. 

 

When he’d arrived in Midgar, nervous but telling himself that he had to do this if he wanted to go home, he’d been thrilled to see Jared among the boys queueing to register and collect their packs. Had forgotten all about the little pipsqueak from the transport immediately.

 

He definitely wouldn’t forget about Cloud from now on. 

 

The memory of the hug, of the fact that Cloud had _hugged_ him, loosened the knot in his chest. He rolled onto his back, took a breath and felt the tension ease.

 

It wasn't all that bad here. He had friends, had a shot at SOLDIER. 

 

Had a chance at making it home. 

 

Ralph fell asleep to dreams of himself and Uncle Cid among the stars, piloting the Enterprise boldly into the final frontier. Together. 

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 0520 hours. -**

 

Cloud supposed he should have realized something was up when the others pulled him ahead of the pack. They weren’t usually this gung-ho so early in the morning.

 

Ralph had started it, the black-haired cadet nudging Cloud’s elbow with his own and picking up speed. Next thing he knew, they were half a lap ahead of everyone else from the bunker. 

 

As soon as it was clear the others were out of earshot, Ralph spoke: “Thanks, boss.”

 

He blamed his flush on his exertion, even though he was barely breathing hard. He nodded at the other boy, wondering why the others were involved if Ralph had only wanted to thank him.

 

It was Ray’s turn next, their resident rich kid looking like he’d stepped off the pages of some glossy magazine. “You know none of us thinks that way, right?”

 

No need to ask what ‘way’ Ray was referring to. Cloud was getting used to the fact that the others seemed to be able to read his moods better than he could. 

 

_That’s coz you’re a total idiot._

 

_Shut up._

 

He glanced at Ray and nodded, not knowing what to say. Scarlet’s words had stung, had incited the hate-filled voice within him to remind him of what he’d been up to over the weekend, of how he was in love with someone but willingly spreading his legs for others. Of how impossible his love was, how impossible his hopes were, how he should just give up and spend the rest of his pathetic existence letting Life fuck him in the ass. 

 

He hadn’t been able to out-swim the darkness that had sucked him into a whirlpool of negativity, though he thought he’d done a pretty good job of keeping the pain at bay, focusing only on Ralph and helping the other cadet feel better. 

 

He’d dreamt of blood and cold green light last night - Sephiroth’s mad laughter mingling with Hojo’s twisted cackles, eyes filled with lunacy and tubes filled with Mako.

 

Someone was talking. 

 

“…matter what, you’ll always be one of us.” That was Ray, smiling gently at him. 

 

“We’ll ALWAYS be joined as one.” Jared added helpfully. Everyone snorted, Cloud included. 

 

Ralph grinned. “All for one and one for all, mi amigos.” 

 

Reno snickered. “For Duty and Humanity!”

 

“For love and sex!” Jared yelled, pumping his fist in the air obscenely. 

 

Cloud laughed along with the others. Times like these he was so glad to be alive, so grateful for the second chance at everything.

 

So afraid to lose it all. 

 

Aeris had told him that he didn’t need to remember what would happen. That once he’d found things and people he cherished, once he knew what it was he wanted to protect at all costs, he wouldn’t need memories of the future to drive him. All he’d need would be memories of the time they’d spent together, of the bonds they shared. 

 

And he had plenty already, despite it only being the fifth week since his ‘return’. 

 

 _Time flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?_ Aeris had asked, smiling.  

 

He agreed. He never wanted the days to end - wanted to put off whatever Nibelheim would be as much as possible - but at the same time he wished time would speed up so that it’d be Saturday afternoon and maybe Sephiroth would be sitting on the floor of Zack’s apartment again looking for something to watch while he ate Wutaian takeout. 

 

He felt his heart race as it always did when he thought of the silver-haired man. Hadn’t realized his expression gave everything away until next to him Ray chuckled knowingly. “The Brigadier General will make sure the General’s there on Saturday, don’t you worry.”

 

Cloud flushed red, stumbled, but the bastards had expected it, reaching out to steady him as soon as Ray’s sentence ended while laughing and teasing “widdle baby chicky” about his "crushy-wushy”. 

 

Reno was singing a song about a Gold Digger. Ralph was somehow moving his legs in that dance-y way of his while keeping pace with them. Jared was insisting there was absolutely nothing wrong with cum for cash, that if you were good at something you shouldn’t do it for free. 

 

He’d beat them up in sword training later. These stooges messed with the wrong blond. 

 

The others were yelling at them to slow down, to stop being such fucking idiots. The five of them smirked and ran faster, feet thumping the track as one.

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 1100 hours. -**

 

Sephiroth was calling out “Enter” even before the first knock sounded. He’d known it was Tseng approaching his office - despite the Turk’s stealth and the thick carpet in the hallway, he’d heard the distinctly Tseng footfalls on plush fibers, known exactly when the long-haired man had raised his hand to politely request entry to the General’s workspace.

 

The door opened silently, and Tseng was greeting him with that slightly amused look the Turk always had when they played this game. 

 

He let his own expression soften as he rose, coming around the table to greet one of the few people he could truly claim to tolerate in Shinra. 

 

Tseng was an honorable man, despite being a covert operative. Sephiroth had always respected the older man’s calm demeanor, strong sense of justice and loyalty. 

 

He shook Tseng’s hand, gestured to him to sit on the couch instead of in the chair that Zack perennially abused, sat on the other end of the sofa and turned to face the Turk’s second-in-command. He had a mountain of paperwork to finish as usual, but if Tseng (who was as busy as the General) was coming to his office - particularly at a time when everyone knew Zack was still in La La Land - then Sephiroth would give the Turk his full attention. 

 

He offered the other man coffee or tea - social niceties having been drilled into his head by instructors who wanted Shinra’s creation absolutely flawless all the time - wasn’t surprised when Tseng demurred gently. That meant the Turk would be spending less than five minutes here. Whatever it was Tseng wanted, it had clearly been important enough for the man to come all the way to the SOLDIER floor for less than three hundred seconds of face-time.

 

And yet, time limit or no, the Turk was as thoughtful and aware as ever, bowing his head slightly to Sephiroth as he offered his condolences for the team of SOLDIERs that had fallen in a surprise attack by Genesis clones disguised as Shinra Reactor Engineers. His men had picked the ‘engineers’ up from the pier in Costa Del Sol as instructed, were escorting them to the Nibelheim reactor by way of Corel - where plans to build another reactor were underway - when they’d been infected with some sort of neurotoxin and slaughtered, left to rot by the side of the road until a bunch of Corel miners headed back from Del Sol had found them. 

 

Someone had leaked the information to Genesis. It was the only way he could have gotten to the engineers before the SOLDIERs had arrived to collect them. Sephiroth knew his men would not have let the engineers out of their sight once the Shinra employees were under their care, knew his men would have realized if the swap had occurred some time en route to Corel. 

 

Genesis knew that Sephiroth felt the loss of each of his men keenly. That any death hit the silver-haired man hard, though he’d never show it. 

 

It was his fault for letting his guard down around the redhead. For trusting the other SOLDIER. For letting him in.

 

And yet, even though he’d thought he’d learned his lesson - that people left, that betrayal only came from friends - he’d gone and let Zack in as well.

 

_Zack’s different._

 

That was true. The man wasn’t raised to kill. And he was bouncier than a rubber ball - that wasn’t normal, by any means. 

 

Spending time with Zack was the only way Sephiroth felt remotely human anymore - was the only time that Sephiroth felt anything other than tiredness, pain, anger and hunger. 

 

At least, that had been the case until a certain blond cadet had foiled Hojo in the hallways several weeks ago and proceeded to mess with his mind to the extent that he’d literally wet himself on Sunday. 

 

After that incident, he’d settled into watching Sherlock, Zack’s ramblings providing a calming white noise that allowed him to relax somewhat and focus on the Great Detective’s cases. Until the call had come in on Sunday evening. 

 

He’d spent all of Sunday night and Monday morning reviewing all the footage Intelligence had been able to get their hands on by himself, looking for avenues or clues to tell him where and when the real engineers had been ‘replaced’. Then he’d spent all of Monday afternoon and evening devising new security protocol, identifying new rendezvous points, developing new codes and testing everything in simulation after simulation on his own - because he was in charge, because he was responsible for ensuring everyone's safety, because he had to get it absolutely _right_ \- until he was satisfied it was watertight. In between, he’d called Intelligence multiple times for information on the neurotoxin - what it was, what it did, how to identify it, how it was transported and administered - but they were unable to provide a definitive answer due to the degeneration of the bodies by the elements, and the fact that wild animals had chewed on the corpses. 

 

_Wild animals had chewed on the corpses of his men, who’d been killed by people they were trying to protect and left to decompose among the weeds. Like insignificant roadkill._

 

He’d gone completely silent in his rage when he’d first heard it - not trusting himself not to string every Shinra employee up and make them tell him how the information had leaked, WHO had betrayed his men - but even then everyone had run from the room as soon as they could, scattering like roaches. Even the President had fled, when at first he’d been harping on the fact that thirty Shinra Reactor Engineers were possibly in enemy hands. 

 

Sephiroth would find whoever it was who’d done this, and make him or her pay. His men deserved better than that. Their families deserved better than that. 

 

He’d broken with protocol - it wasn’t the first time he’d thrown the rule book out the window, though he’d never allow Zack to find out - calling each fallen SOLDIER’s family that evening to inform them of what had happened personally, give them his assurance that he would find whoever was responsible and bring that individual or group of individuals to justice for their sons. 

 

All his years of experience, all the films and works of fiction that Zack exposed him to, all the nagging and “Social Studies" he'd gotten from Angeal in the past and Zack in the present, and he still hadn’t been fully prepared for the myriad reactions from bereaved parents. 

 

There had been shock, of course - that their sons were dead, that the General himself was calling to inform them, pledging to find the perpetrators. 

 

There had been grief as expected - loud and wailing, soft and weeping, voices breaking and spirits broken. 

 

There had been anger too, over Sephiroth allowing such a thing to happen, over his failure as a leader. 

 

But what had stunned him most was the way that all some parents had wanted to know was if the real engineers were safe, and if their sons had been good SOLDIERs - if they’d been brave and loyal, good comrades and good friends to all who knew them. 

 

He’d wished more than anything then for a way to turn back time, for him to take the places of his fallen men in order for them to be alive and safe - so he wouldn’t have to see the torment and blame in the faces of their parents who’d been in the middle of Sunday Dinner, so he would never again feel the pain of a thousand swords piercing through his chest, twisting and turning as he looked each parent in the eye and tried to tell them how very sorry he was for their loss.

 

It was the pain that dogged him, kept him going over maps and security logs and plans, like a madman searching for some sort of evidence that he was the Chosen One, searching for the Truth that would set him free. 

 

Until he’d met Zack at the entrance of their apartment building, he hadn’t realized he’d gone without food since the late lunch they’d shared on Sunday in his penthouse. 

 

Sephiroth bowed his head as well, thanked the Turk for his thoughts, waved away the murmured apology over the lack of any flowers or offerings, sat up straight and deliberately kept his body language open. 

 

It was time for the main event. 

 

“It appears the Junon Cannon is in its final stages of development,” Tseng said softly. 

 

Sephiroth nodded, he’d heard the same in Tuesday’s meeting with Lazard.

 

“The Head of Weapons Development has been dispatched to the Junon base to ensure there are no issues with our latest defence system.” Tseng was pretending to look at Sephiroth politely, but the General knew the other man was watching him closely for a reaction, had heard about Scarlet’s little jaunt to the cadet academy.

 

Sephiroth had heard about that from Zack yesterday afternoon, the black-haired First storming into his office to rail about the “evil conniving c-word of a shark-faced bitch”, as the Brigadier General liked to call Scarlet. 

 

Like Zack, he’d wanted to tell Scarlet to stick her surgically-altered nose in the Junon Cannon and press ‘Fire'. But he knew that speaking to the “shark-faced bitch” would only be taken as ‘proof’ that he had an interest in the cadets - in Strife - and that it would be used against him by that “evil conniving c-word”.

 

He also knew that it would raise flags all across Shinra - that Hojo would have hauled the little blond cadet into the labs immediately, and that the Vice President would have started plotting to get to Strife as a means of leverage against Sephiroth. 

 

So he’d sat in his chair and tried to remain impassive as Zack ranted and raved, slamming angry gloved fists on the table - which now needed to be fixed - and wishing SOLDIER could be free of Shinra forever. 

 

He’d shot the First a look at that, a silent warning that nowhere was safe for such words, and Zack had grit his teeth and stormed off, slamming the door almost off its hinges on his way out. 

 

He hadn’t seen his second-in-command since then. It was rare for Zack to not harass him in the evenings when he’d gotten home from work. He told himself that he should enjoy the peace while it lasted, but he hadn’t been able to calm down fully at the thought of Scarlet approaching Cloud. 

 

_Strife. STRIFE._

 

 _Yes, ‘strife’ does accurately describe your emotional state right now._ That voice had sounded too much like Genesis for comfort. 

 

At the thought of his redheaded friend, he had stilled, dropping the replacement mug Zack had given him. Fortunately he’d been standing over the sink when he’d thought of Genesis, and what the man would do if he ever found out about Cloud, and about how…'confused' Sephiroth felt thanks to the little blond cadet. 

 

All he could think about was stopping these uncomfortable emotions and thoughts before the situation escalated and Cloud became a target, but he hadn’t the first clue how to go about it. It wasn’t like he could look it up in the database or talk to Zack about it.

 

And yet…he’d almost forgotten that the blond had a very powerful backer in the form of the Godfather’s son, and that Junon was the Godfather’s home ground. Scarlet would not be safe from the Family’s reach in the port city, would have to spend the next few weeks making sure she didn’t do anything to put herself at risk of being 'taken care of'. 

 

It was a message, loud and clear: the Johnson Family would not tolerate anyone messing with Cloud Strife. Scarlet had met the small blond for a few minutes yesterday, and was now being transferred to Junon for several weeks, _away_ from the little cadet.

 

Sephiroth wasn’t sure if he was glad, or if he wanted to throw the Johnson boy into a wall for now putting a price tag on Cloud’s head. He didn’t doubt that the other Families had their own people in Shinra, would have heard about it and put two and two together. 

 

A sudden thought seized him. It hadn’t just been Cloud who’d been targeted by the sadistic...“c-word". 

 

That Rocket Town cadet, the nephew of the cranky pilot who’d caused Rocket Town’s socio-economic malaise with his youthful arrogance, had caught that woman’s eye as well. 

 

Sephiroth had heard that Scarlet had joined Shinra 10 years ago, around the same time the rocket launch had failed. He hadn’t paid attention then, the Wutai War had just started and it’d been his first time meeting Angeal and Genesis - the first time he’d met two other natural born killers, just like him. 

 

He was glad for his ability to remain impassive at all times. Had he been Zack, he’d have let out a sigh of relief. 

 

To outsiders, the Johnson boy could be protecting either the Nibelheim cadet or the Rocket Town cadet, or both. It was common knowledge in Shinra that they were all close, that the Junon cadet and the Rocket Town boy had always been on good terms even before Cloud’s incident in hand-to-hand five weeks ago.

 

The target was murkier, the price tag halved. 

 

He wanted to kick himself for jumping to conclusions, assuming it was Cloud who’d been in Scarlet’s crosshairs. This protectiveness, this _possessiveness_ , was completely unlike him. This inability to refer to the pretty little cadet by his last name even more so.

 

 _Pretty little cadet, huh?_ The voice sounded like Zack’s. Sephiroth was glad the other man wasn’t here to hear the latest and witness his lack of reaction, knew his second-in-command would see through Sephiroth’s facade as easily as he charmed his way into everyone’s hearts. 

 

He nodded at Tseng, noted how the Turk hadn’t moved a muscle the whole time gears had been whirring in Sephiroth’s head. 

 

“The Cannon is important to Shinra,” the General responded calmly. 

 

Tseng was a brilliant Turk - not once did his expression change, nor did he give any sign that he’d gotten what he’d come for. 

 

They both knew exactly what it was that the long-haired operative had wanted. And they both knew he’d gotten part of it. 

 

Sephiroth supposed he should thank the Rocket Town cadet for helping deflect some attention from Cloud. But first, he needed to deal with this…’thing’ that he was going through thanks to the little blond.

 

He was looking forward to spending time at Zack’s on Saturday. The First had asked him over for a marathon of some new TV series he’d recently discovered, about two brothers who solved supernatural crimes out of duty and tradition. While Sephiroth didn’t enjoy the poor special effects and vapid stupidity of characters that detracted from every horror movie he’d ever seen ( _why did the everyone always run upstairs and not out the front door?_ ), Zack had assured him that this series held more mythology and “whodunnit” than badly applied makeup and ridiculous plot devices. 

 

 _And besides_ , Zack had reasoned, _it’s not real - the ghosts and ghouls and demons. Which makes the show a great way to take a breather, get your mind off the War so you can recharge, even give you a fresh perspective maybe._

 

The First had a point. And his film and TV recommendations had been spot on thus far.

 

While Sephiroth tried not to skip work on Saturdays (even though he knew he was one of a select few who bothered heading into the office on Saturday), a TV marathon at Zack’s all weekend meant no Disney Princesses to remind him of Cloud with their blond hair and blue eyes, meant no other golden-haired sapphire-eyed bed partners to make him wish it was the little cadet he was holding instead. 

 

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough. 

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 2030 hours. -**

 

Zack watched the little blond cadet practise his side kicks on the redhead, prayed no mission would get in the way of this weekend’s plans. 

 

_So far, so good._

 

Sephiroth had agreed to come over Saturday morning to marathon Supernatural all weekend. While Zack hadn’t been entirely sold on the premise when he’d picked the DVDs up in the store, he didn’t have much choice. 

 

Every SOLDIER who was Captain and above was not allowed to purchase or rent DVDs from anywhere other than the store on base. And no SOLDIER was allowed Netflix. Shinra didn’t want anyone hacking or embedding any sort of code into the electronics of their warriors. 

 

_Paranoid, much?_

 

It was just an entertainment system, for God’s sake. 

 

It didn’t help that Sephiroth marathoned at _his_ speed - watching DVDs at on 5X fast forward to “keep his skills sharp” - meaning he finished shows quicker than production houses could pump them out. Zack wondered if it was because the man just wanted to get straight to the point. It defeated the purpose of watching anything, it wasn’t how life worked, and he’d told his commander as such. The silver-haired man had agreed to try and watch at “normal speed” whenever Zack was around, but who knew what the man got up to when he was on his own. 

 

His reasoning for the marathon had gotten through to the General, though he’d known it would. Sephiroth had been quieter than normal (and that was saying something) on Monday night, and Zack had understood why on Tuesday when the silver-haired SOLDIER had finally told him what had happened. 

 

He knew it had been purely “need to know”, that the only people who’d been in the loop on Sunday and Monday were the General, Lazard, Verdot, and the President and his Heads of Department. Intelligence had been involved too, but those guys never talked to anyone but Sephiroth anyway. 

 

It still hurt that he’d been kept in the dark for so long. He’d known those men - six Thirds and four Seconds - had had drinks with them just two weeks before they’d been sent on their little “escort” mission. 

 

It hurt every time one of their own fell. The General wasn’t the only one in pain - they all were. No one liked losing friends.

 

Genesis, AVALANCHE, Wutai…they would all pay.

 

And yet…

 

Zack wasn’t an angry man by nature. He always kept a level-head, despite his outward shows of emotion sometimes, and he knew death was inevitable - particularly in their line of work. 

 

He also knew that Wutai was fighting because they believed in independence, because they were proud of their heritage and culture, because they didn’t want to become slaves to Shinra. 

 

No one did. But submitting gracefully was better for them in the long run. Just look at Rocket Town - that proud bunch of dreamers who lived hand-to-mouth, struggling to get by, patching up their town and burying more and more of their people every time the War came through.

 

He glanced at the black-haired cadet who was currently locked in a Mata Leão by the Junon boy under Jeffries’ supervision. 

 

He’d heard about what the shark-faced bitch had said to him, heard about how furious the teen had been, and he knew why. 

 

God knew he’d wanted to march straight up to that c-word and break her neck multiple times ever since he’d met her. The urge to maim had been overwhelming on Wednesday when he’d found out about the bitch’s little visit down to the cadet academy, when he’d heard about how she’d tried to touch Cloud, heard about what she’d said to Vikers. 

 

But he couldn’t - he knew he couldn’t. Even Sephiroth couldn’t touch her - though Zack suspected the General wouldn’t touch that skank with the tip of his Masamune for fear of contaminating his beloved blade - she was the Head of Weapons Development, and the President liked her. 

 

Easy to understand why the fat man did. He liked anyone who stroked his ego and sucked him off, anyone who made him look good.

 

The c-word’s inventions certainly struck fear into their enemies - her team cranking out weapon after weapon that got more and more brutal with each iteration. 

 

Zack had heard about the “tests”, heard whispers that orphans from the slums were used as “subjects”, and he didn’t like it. But already it had taken all of Sephiroth’s powers of persuasion to keep the bitch’s weapons out of SOLDIER  - they couldn’t question her about her “practices”.  

 

He had a feeling he knew part of the reason why Cloud’s redhead friend wanted to join the Turks, had had a casual chat with Tseng in the hallway last week about it. As much as the street rat liked to pretend he was the shit, liked to act as though he didn’t care about anyone or anything, Zack and the Turks had his number. The boy still had a heart, still had his own sense of honor, justice and loyalty - the Turks weren’t interested in merely recruiting stone-cold killers - but more than that _Cloud_ wouldn’t spend so much time with the redhead otherwise. 

 

The long-haired operative had also mentioned casually that Verdot was keeping an eye on the slum kid, which meant the Head of the Turks suspected he’d be executing his own employee for murdering a Head of Department. 

 

It also meant that Verdot had known Reno from before. 

 

Zack knew about the Turk’s habit of wandering about the slums in disguise, trying to help whoever he could without giving his identity away. Angeal had mentioned it once. 

 

He wondered what his mentor was up to. Angeal hated killing, believed that the greatest victory was one without bloodshed, would never want to see any of the men he’d served with hurt. 

 

Yet Angeal had gone AWOL with Genesis, and Genesis clones had killed hundreds of SOLDIERs thus far. 

 

_Why, Angeal? Why didn’t you stop him?_

 

He didn’t have the answers, none of them did. He’d sat and thought about it thousands of times already, always with bottles of whisky in his hands, wondering why Angeal had left, wondering what Angeal was up to, wondering how to bring him back.

 

No matter how much he’d screamed to the heavens, he’d never gotten any answers. God existed, Zack had to believe He did, but He wasn’t listening.

 

_No church in the wild._

 

_Lies on the lips of a priest._

 

Speaking of churches and priests - he’d yet to ask Cloud about his little visits to a church in the slums. The timing hadn’t been right thus far - he was only starting to build a rapport with the blond, and he didn’t want to frighten the cadet off with questions. Bad enough the poor kid had looked ready to have a heart attack when Zack had teased him about his weekend activities on Monday. He felt bad about it, but at the same time it was fun teasing the boy - he was adorable when he was off-balance, showing his true colors. 

 

He knew Sephiroth thought Cloud was adorable no matter what the blond did. 

 

Which brought him back to his hopes that he wouldn’t be sent on a mission this weekend. 

 

It’d been awhile since he’d been sent on a mission, actually. That meant only one thing: he had one coming up very soon, and it would take at least a week, if not more. Sephiroth wasn’t the kind of man who deployed his Firsts every time he heard something about their enemies - experience had taught him to be cautious - which meant the silver-haired commander was currently putting together a plan for a critical strike on either Genesis, AVALANCHE or Wutai. And Zack would be involved. 

 

AVALANCHE had been quiet recently, actually. Too quiet. They were likely plotting something, and it wouldn’t be good for anyone - those terrorists didn’t care who they hurt, so long as they managed to land a hit on Shinra. 

 

While Zack often left planning and decision-making up to his commander unless he was on the ground running point, he knew the silver-haired man valued his input and would run any plan past him before they decided to execute it. It hadn’t always been the case - Zack had his tenacity to thank for that. It hadn’t been easy proving himself to Sephiroth, proving that he could be trusted, but it was so worth it. 

 

Everything happened for a reason, he had to believe that. 

 

Cloud had Reno on the ground, and was trying to get the upper hand but the redhead was a slippery little wanker and very good at groundwork.  

 

Zack raised his eyebrows and wanted to whistle as the blond pulled off a move that resulted in the slum kid tapping out frantically. He’d never seen anyone move like that before, not even Sephiroth.

 

Then again, no one had ever seen Sephiroth wrestle. The man was too good - the SOLDIERs had a betting pool going on who would actually be able to make the man’s knees touch the ground. It was all in good fun, of course - they didn’t believe anyone actually could. 

 

Heaven help anyone who ever took their boss down. SOLDIERs would be on that punk like white on rice.

 

Although…

 

Zack somehow knew that once Cloud had his Mako enhancements, once the little blond was fully grown and trained, he’d give the General a run for his money. The kid was deadly enough already - no telling how lethal he’d be once he became a SOLDIER. 

 

On the one hand, Zack didn’t want the sweet blond ever being exposed to the brutalities of battle. On the other, he knew having the boy on their side was an advantage - it would mean more successful attacks, less casualties, and, maybe, a quicker end to the long War. 

 

_Catch-22._

 

He needed to up his own game, pull more than his weight if he wanted the War to end before anyone else became embittered and hardened, before more people died. 

 

The timer beeped, and he realized their little private training had ended for today. Already Cloud and Reno were standing at attention, both panting and flushed, while Jeffries, Mendez and the other four boys walked to where Zack was standing in the middle of the hall. 

 

He nodded at them, thanked them for their hard work, and asked the little chicky to hang back for a bit. 

 

_Baby chocobo, baby chicken, chicky…geddit, geddit?_

 

No one appreciated his genius.

 

As soon as he was alone with the blond, he gave a spiky head its usual shake, grinned when he saw that familiar joyous yet sad expression on the kid’s face. 

 

He’d figure him out one day, find out who had hurt the little cadet so badly and beat whoever it was to a pulp. 

 

In the meantime, he was on a mission.

 

“So Cloudy,” he started as they strolled towards the doors. “Just checking - what’s your favorite food?”

 

The way the blond reacted to that simple question broke his heart. Baby blues had widened in shock as Cloud bit his lower lip, which had trembled slightly. Had no one ever thought to ask the boy what he liked or disliked? Had no one ever cared?

 

He wanted to strangle those damn cadets who got it on with Cloud every week but hadn’t bothered asking.

 

 _Calm down, Zack._ That voice reminded him of Angeal so much. 

 

He knew the others weren’t selfish bastards, that they cared about Cloud - it was obvious to everyone. They probably hadn’t thought to ask because the little blond was the type not to kick up a fuss, wanted everyone to get along and be happy so he’d probably always agreed to eating anything the others wanted. 

 

He focused on the small cadet, noticed how Cloud seemed to be wracking his brain trying to come up with something. The boy was clearly unused to having to pick something in particular he liked, though Zack suspected - from whatever it was the kid had been through - he was exceptionally good at picking out things he _didn’t_ like.

 

“Umm…” Cloud’s voice was low, uncertain, as though he wasn’t sure if it was alright to voice such selfish thoughts. 

 

_It’s OK, kiddo._

 

Zack wanted to give the boy a hug. 

 

“Probably…Wutaian?” Baby blues had peeked up at him hesitantly, as though waiting to be shot down or mocked. Zack’s heart ached for the blond, wondered who it was who’d intentionally taken away everything the kid had ever liked or loved and made him believe he didn’t deserve to be indulged a little, didn’t deserve to have things he wanted.

 

Apart from his Get-Seph-A-Life-Tis, he was beginning to develop a serious case of Cloudy-dia.

 

He grinned, ruffled blond hair. “Got it! I’ll get plenty of Wutaian for you on Saturday then!”

 

The way the kid looked - disbelieving, happy, touched - made him want to lock Cloud and Sephiroth in a Pleasure Chamber and throw away the key. 

 

If this worked out, neither of them would feel so isolated again. 

 

##

 

**\- Friday. 1130 hours -**

 

Ray whistled as Ralph continued firing, each bullet almost perfectly placed until the black-haired cadet had completely blown off the bulls’ eye on the target. 

 

The boy really was a crackshot.

 

He supposed the scarlet color of the bulls eye just made the Rocket Towner see red. None of them had enjoyed the little “visit” by The Bitch. 

 

Ray knew he should stop using Family Connections to help his friends, but what was the point of having power if he didn’t use it to protect people he cared about?

 

Unlike Shinra. 

 

He didn’t like the way the President worked, but they didn’t really have a choice. He and his father didn’t want AVALANCHE to win because those terrorists had no honor, no compassion - though they were themselves an organized crime family, the key words were “organized” and “family”. 

 

There had to be rules, there had to be empathy. 

 

Some of the other Families didn’t care - pushed products to children as soon as they could walk in the name of money and repeat customers - but the Johnsons had expressly forbidden it among their Family members. It wasn’t about profits or territory - these were _kids_ , for God’s sake. Children should be allowed to be children.

 

Not that Ray believed any of them - Cloud, Reno, Ralph, Jared and himself - had led “normal” childhoods by any means. Especially since he knew Ralph’s and Jared’s stories, had been involved in their lives before cadet training. 

 

As he fired almost absent-mindedly at his target, his thoughts drifted to AVALANCHE. His men had only been able to find out that AVALANCHE was eyeing the Junon Cannon currently being built - they’d fed that information to Shinra as a means of persuading the President to send the vicious whore to oversee the cannon development - but no other details were forthcoming. Ray wondered what Rufus had planned, how the other cruel blond intended to deal with AVALANCHE once they’d achieved his objective of killing his father. 

 

He knew Rufus would be sure to tie up any loose ends perfectly. 

 

He didn’t want to put Lara in the position of bugging Rufus’ penthouse. She was too valuable to lose over the chance that their surveillance units would pick something up, had spent years gaining the trust of the most powerful men and women in the world, used her connections and skills to Ray’s advantage. 

 

The General had destroyed the bugs as soon as the triplets had left, he knew. But he wasn’t worried, knowing the SOLDIER probably blamed Rufus for the attempted espionage - Ray was fully aware of the fact that the Vice President and the General disliked each other, so his instructions to Lara had been clear: the Disney Princesses would only plant the bugs the morning after Lara had spent a night with Rufus. It’d been a long shot, attempting to spy on the SOLDIER, but Ray had thought it through and he didn’t see any harm in trying.

 

He knew their undercover agents on the Junon base would find a way to bug Scarlet’s phone and quarters. The woman was paranoid, would be on guard for any suspicious behavior because she knew she was in the Johnson’s home ground (and she knew that Ray had ordered it after her little “episode”), so their agents had been instructed not to make any moves for the first three weeks. Let Scarlet get lulled into a false sense of security before they planted their equipment. 

 

Wutai was becoming another problem, though their legitimate alcohol business was still doing well in the city while their smugglers made bank bringing Wutaian sake, art pieces and beautifully made katanas to wealthy individuals and corporations outside of those ancient walls. He knew the General was one of their regular customers, though he doubted the silver-haired SOLDIER knew exactly who was behind the exquisite weapons that adorned his walls or the bottles of authentic sake he enjoyed. It was dangerous business, playing both sides, so they were using proxies and shell companies - people who couldn’t be traced back to them and vice versa. 

 

It was an operation run entirely on unspoken rules of loyalty, honor, and respect. 

 

Some Wutaians were getting louder in their calls for throwing the Johnsons out - calling them greedy, dishonorable bootleggers who sought profits more than anything else. It wouldn’t do to lose their access to that city - it was thanks to their employees in Wutai that the Johnsons had always been able to move their people out of harm’s way, had been able to trade key intel for favors. The Family needed to remain on good terms with Wutai, but the War wasn’t helping - though it was certainly helping alcohol sales across the world. 

 

Then there was Genesis, that rogue SOLDIER. Ray’s men hadn’t been able to find out much about him - even the Turks on their payroll hadn’t had much information beyond what was publicly available. They hadn’t been able to penetrate the SOLDIER Firsts, who were fiercely loyal to the General, though the Family was close to turning several Seconds, had already succeeded in making several Thirds their Associates. Unfortunately, Seconds and Thirds could only report limited information, and only after the fact - Firsts were the ones who knew more than what was easily available, and they were ridiculously tight-lipped. 

 

Ray needed to know what it was Genesis was up to so that he could prepare the Family, maybe find a way to use Genesis to their advantage against the other Families. From what he’d heard, the redhead was on some sort of power trip and wanted to be a “hero”. The man had clearly purchased drugs from the Salozzos, known for their defective product. 

 

No matter, he had Cloud - whom the General was keen on, and whom the Brigadier General obviously treated like a baby brother. If anyone would be able to find out more about Genesis, it’d be his little blond friend. 

 

Ray couldn’t wait for tomorrow. He’d known the minute the dark-haired SOLDIER had asked them over that the man planned to trick the General and Cloud into spending time together. While the First hadn’t asked for his help, he’d give it willingly - he liked the Brigadier General, who was clearly an honorable and kind man, and he knew Cloud and the General liked each other. If it helped him win brownie points with the blue-eyed SOLDIER, then that was a plus. While Ray admitted that the General was majestic, a sight to behold, he also knew that he didn’t stand a chance. Not only because his coloring wasn’t in line with the General’s tastes, but because of his family background.

 

He’d kept his identity secret for many reasons, mostly safety and security. But a small part of him, a very tiny part, also couldn’t forget the way the other kids in kindergarten had looked at him when the rumors started. 

 

Their true business wasn’t a respectable one. And he had learned to accept it as his lot in life. 

 

_You can't choose who you're born to. You can only make the best of it._

 

Beside him, Ralph was laughing at Brian’s futile attempts to hit the target, calling the Kalm cadet a Storm Trooper. The light brown-haired boy was flushing but smiling, since Ralph’s words held no venom and he was clearly trying to teach the smaller cadet to aim better by adjusting Brian’s grip and instructing him on when and how to breathe. Jared wasn’t helping, his suggestions focused on how to breathe around a fat cock in one’s mouth, while Cloud and Reno were insulting each other (well, Reno was doing the insulting and Cloud was ignoring him) over their almost identical scores. 

 

It was good to see Ralph having fun. It was good to see them all having fun. 

 

Ray wondered what the future held, once they’d entered SOLDIER. There was only so much his Family could do, only so much protection he could give his friends. Only so much time before he had to become a man, and fight for his position as Head of the Family. 

 

A sudden pat, and he turned, startled, squeezing the trigger and cursing the knee jerk reaction that wasted a shot. 

 

Reno needed that smug look knocked off his face. 

 

“Sorry, dude.” _You’re not sorry at all, street rat._  “Some of the others were wondering if we were heading under the Plate tonight. Cloud’s cool with whatever.” Cloud was always cool with whatever. Even being abused. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini..._

 

He tilted his head, considering, glanced at Cloud who was pretending to focus on hitting the target while trying to control the slight flush on porcelain cheeks. 

 

Blondie wanted to get it on, that much was clear. 

 

He turned back to Reno. “We’ll need to be back by two-thirty tomorrow, though. A bit tight, don’t you think?”

 

The redhead nodded. It would definitely be a bit of a rush, given how they tended to sleep till two on Saturdays in the slums. “Bunker?”

 

He nodded, turned to look at the others who shrugged and nodded. No one really cared where they drank, so long as the booze was free. 

 

It was how Ray had become so popular so quickly, after all. Though Cloud, Reno and Ralph still remained hesitant about accepting his money easily - Ray knew Reno had figured out who he was already, but the redhead’s stubborn pride and experience in the slums wouldn’t allow him to give in so easily. Ralph had his pride too - although the black-haired boy had learned to swallow it many times growing up in Rocket Town, deep down Ralph had strong feelings towards ‘charity’ and being at someone’s mercy. Now that Ralph had figured out who he was, it was highly likely the other cadet didn't want to owe him any more favors. It was testament to the black-haired boy's maturity and pride that he hadn't asked Ray to change the terms of their deal, proof of his understanding that doing so would make Ray look weak in front of the Family. 

 

Cloud likely had no clue what Ray’s family did for a living, and was just too sweet to be comfortable taking advantage of anyone else. 

 

Fortunately Jared knew Ray well, knew the brunette was just doing what he felt like doing. Brian went along with everything because he didn’t want to be left out, while Grant had accepted easily once Ray had had a little “chat” with the massive Corelian. The hulking cadet was the kind who didn’t question when there was no obvious danger, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. 

 

He turned back to Cloud, waited for the blond to have the final say. It was how they operated in public - the smaller cadet was Boss, and they honestly did respect his decisions and intelligence - Cloud would be the one to give the final go/no-go at all times, though they would of course provide their suggestions and recommendations. 

 

The Nibelheim boy glanced at him and nodded once, turned back to the front and pretended it was perfectly normal to blush during target practice. 

 

_Nice try, Blondie._

 

Ray couldn’t wait for tonight, and for tomorrow. 

 

_TGIF._

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 0000 hours. -**

 

Cloud wondered how they had managed to get the keys for the instructor’s lounge.

 

No need to wonder why he was going along with breaking and entering. He was tipsy, but more than that he needed to get laid. It was already Saturday, and all the thoughts and hopes as a result of this afternoon’s plans at Zack’s were making him wish for blessed oblivion. 

 

The ball gag was in place already, seeing as they were on base and needed to keep their voices down. He wondered how Ray had managed to bring his little Bag of Tricks into the cadet academy. 

 

He had to admit the thought of getting caught, of being found out, made him more than a little excited. 

 

_Pervert._

 

_Duh._

 

He was bent over the back of the sofa while Reno took him hard from behind, watching Jared - who was also gagged - take Ralph and Ray in his ass with little resistance. The taller blond had clearly prepared himself well - both blonds had had to, kneeling on the coffee table with their backs to the other boys as they lubed themselves up while the others watched.  

 

Cloud wondered how long it’d take them to clean up once they were done. 

 

Reno was gripping his hair, yanking his head backwards to allow the redhead to bite on Cloud’s shoulder. The blond was grateful that his tee would be able to cover the bite mark easily. He didn’t want another ‘talk’ with Zack about his weekend activities. 

 

The ball gag was yanked from his mouth and his head was shoved down onto Ralph’s cock before he could react. He could taste Jared and the lube, wanted to wrinkle his nose but Ralph was fucking his mouth hard and fast, and he needed to focus to prevent biting the other boy, especially with how brutal Reno’s thrusts were. 

 

Ralph pulled out suddenly, shoved the ball gag back in and slapped Cloud across the face before moving back into position and joining Ray in Jared.

 

_We’ll always be joined as one, huh?_

 

Jared must have been psychic. 

 

A grunt, and Reno was filling his ass with warmth. The feeling alone made Cloud want to come, but the hated cock ring was on. 

 

 _Bastards_. He needed release too, dammit!

 

A hard slap on his ass and he cried out around the gag. 

 

“Hold it in, slut.” Reno’s rough voice always sent a shiver down Cloud’s spine. He nodded to show he’d understood, moving to plug his hole with his fingers, squeezing ass muscles to hold the other boy’s cum in as much as he could, though he still felt some leakage. He got a few more slaps for that, wished he could tell Reno that it just made him want to cum even more though that was probably why the other boy did it. 

 

He panted, holding himself over the sofa with his fingers in his ass and a ball in his mouth as he watched Ray and Ralph do Jared what Reno had done to him. The other blond had it tougher, his position causing more cum to leak out and down his legs, and his face was slapped hard for that ‘failure’. 

 

Then the gags were removed, Cloud was pushed over to lie on his back on the sofa as Jared clambered over him, and they were told to remove their makeshift butt plugs and clean each other up. 

 

Jared sat on Cloud’s face, while the smaller blond felt hands lifting his ass up and then Jared’s very talented tongue was inside slurping greedily. 

 

He opened his mouth, tasted Ray and Ralph and Jared, and moaned. The sound was muffled thanks to Jared rubbing his ass on Cloud’s face, but the others heard it clearly.

 

“Damn whores.” 

 

He felt absolutely filthy, and he loved it. Anything to keep the thoughts of Sephiroth at bay, the hope that the General would be there in the afternoon away. 

 

Jared’s chin was bumping the tip of his cock, making him want to scream in frustration at the inability to cum. He was doing his best - he was cleaning Jared well with his tongue, thrusting and sucking and swallowing - so why didn’t they LET HIM CUM?

 

Suddenly the ass was lifted from his face, and he watched as a dildo was shoved in deep before the tell-tale _click_ told him what was going on inside the other blond. Jared was moaning loudly into Cloud’s ass, the vibrations making tears gather in the smaller blond’s eyes, and he opened his mouth to plead only for Jared’s hips to be yanked backwards and down, shoving the other blond’s cock deep and causing Cloud to gag. His hair was gripped painfully tight in warning, and he obediently got to work - though he didn’t have to do much, with the way Jared was writhing and grinding into him, with the way the dildo was no doubt hitting the taller boy’s prostate with its vibrations, and soon wet warmth flooded Cloud’s mouth and he swallowed quickly, sucking and licking Jared clean. 

 

When the other boy was lifted off him, he opened his mouth to plead again, only for the ball gag to be shoved back in. He mewled, lifting his hips and arching his back - he needed to CUM, dammit! - then dark chuckles filled his ears before something cold pinched his nipple almost painfully tight. Gasping, he tried to look down, only for his head to be yanked backwards over the arm-rest as Ralph slapped him once, twice, thrice before removing the ball gag and shoving himself deep, not waiting for Cloud to adjust before fucking his mouth again. 

 

His other nipple was pinched painfully tight as well, and he felt a leather chain hang across his upper abs. Then someone flicked whatever it was pinching him, and he cried out around Ralph. 

 

_It hurts!_

 

He tried to reach for it, to take it off, but his hands were grabbed as a mouth closed over his cock and someone started to pound into him. 

 

Someone was pounding into whoever it was sucking him off - most likely Jared - going by the way the mouth kept jerking. 

 

His nipples were flicked again, and this time the pain was lessened by the cock in his ass pounding against that spot that made him see stars, by the warmth that suckled at him until he wanted to scream because THE DAMN RING WAS STILL ON.

 

Again and again they flicked whatever it was that pinched him, until each time they touched it Cloud moaned around Ralph, lifting his chest up for more. 

 

_So good, so good, please…_

 

A harder flick on his left nipple, he arched his back, then the cock ring was removed and Jared was sucking hard and swallowing Cloud’s spurts with ease as both blonds cried out around the cocks in their mouths. 

 

Ralph came, squeezing Cloud’s throat so that the blond wouldn’t swallow, and Cloud credited all his ‘practice’ for the fact that he was able to hold the cum in his mouth. Then his ass was filled - he moaned and received a slap for being a noisy slut - whoever it was pulled out, and something large and hard was being shoved in.

 

When it started to vibrate, Cloud realized it was the dildo that had been in Jared earlier. 

 

He was pushed up into a sitting position, Jared straddling his lap and fucking himself on Cloud as the two blonds kissed. Cloud fisted Jared as ordered, started to pump, as the other boy’s movements rubbed against whatever it was on his chest and made him want to _take it off_ and _move more_.

 

When Jared released his mouth, Cloud looked down, saw the clamps and thought to himself it shouldn’t be so hot, then he glanced to his left and wondered why he was surrounded by porn stars.

 

Ralph had Ray on a table, dick buried deep in the Junon cadet’s ass as strong arms held the brunette up while Ray braced himself against the table surface - refusing to fall onto his back, refusing to hold on to Ralph for support, clenching lean abs as he attempted to stare the taller boy down even as he was being fucked hard - and Reno had two fingers in Ralph’s and was thrusting in time with the black-haired boy’s rhythm.

 

_And they say blonds have all the fun._

 

A _click_ , and suddenly Cloud didn’t care who was in who as Jared started to kiss him frantically and ride him faster. 

 

When the haze cleared, they were ordered to crawl over to where the other three were, getting on their hands and knees and making their way over to where Reno was buried in Ralph who was buried in Ray. 

 

Then Jared was cleaning Reno’s cock while Cloud was eating Ralph’s ass out for the first time, tasting Reno as well, as the vibrations inside him pushed him closer and closer to climax. It didn’t take long for Ralph to go over the edge, and then Cloud was being ordered to clean Ray up.

 

He moved obediently, saw Jared with Reno’s and Ralph’s cocks in his mouth, then Ray was guiding him to his ass and Cloud was licking and suckling enthusiastically - _like a good little slut_ , Ray cooed - while fisting Ray’s length and pumping. When Ray was close, he moved to stand leaning against the table, and Cloud gladly sucked him off, keeping the cum in his mouth and waiting for Ray to spit inside before he swallowed. 

 

The hard slap after that, plus the weights on his nipples and the vibrations inside his ass, made him cum hard, and he splattered white streaks on the table leg and floor. 

 

“Bitch!” Ray slapped him again, grabbed his hair and shoved his head down. “Clean that up!”

 

He wasn’t going to lick the furniture and the floor. Who the hell did Ray…

 

The dildo started to vibrate faster, his cock was nudged with a foot, and he crawled forward to clean himself off the table, ass jutting up in the air as someone stomped the dildo in further, pushing Cloud’s face forward and making his lips wrap around the table leg as he kept licking. 

 

“Good boy.” Ray sounded like he was talking to a puppy who’d just learned to roll over. 

 

Cloud wondered how much further he’d sink, then didn’t have time to wonder further as he was pulled up and shoved into the table, bending over as Ray yanked the still vibrating dildo out and fucked him from behind while thrusting fingers in his mouth. 

 

The similarities with that first ‘resonance’ with Sephiroth made him clench hard around the brunette and cry out around the fingers fucking his mouth. The fingers pulled out, a palm clapped over his mouth and his head was yanked back as Ray hissed into his ear: “Be quiet, slut.”

 

A hard bite on the top of his ear and he nodded, moaning into the palm at the pain. 

 

He was yanked off the table and spun around, still bent over, then Reno was fucking his mouth while Jared knelt below Cloud to suck him off. 

 

The way Reno’s thrusts were so out of rhythm, could it be…?

 

He felt Reno jerk against him, heard the redhead cry out softly, and he almost came at the thought of Ralph pounding into the future Turk while Reno fucked Cloud’s mouth. 

 

He wasn’t sure how long they kept going, how many times his nipples were flicked - making him cry out around cock or into ass - or how many times wet heat filled him on both ends. All the knew was the blessed oblivion he’d sought, the feeling of someone or several someones cleaning him up, dressing him and supporting him back to his bed. Then his head hit the pillow and he fell asleep looking forward to heading to Zack’s. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 1455 hours. -**

 

Cloud focused on thinking about how to find out if Zack was dating anyone, instead of on how pleasantly sore he felt and how glad he was his tee covered the marks on his shoulders. 

 

If Zack was single, Cloud would have to find a way to introduce him to Aeris. The First didn’t have a single arrogant bone in his body, so asking him to come to the slums wouldn’t be an issue. But how would Cloud frame the invitation?

 

They were approaching the Alpha Tower, carrying bottles of whisky in paper bags Ray had somehow procured - Cloud wondered again at how the brunette always seemed to have everything sorted, wondered at how the others had managed to clean the instructors’ lounge up after this morning - because it felt wrong to turn up empty handed to Zack’s place, even though the SOLDIER probably wasn’t expecting them to bring anything.

 

He shoved aside the thought of _what if Sephiroth’s there_ , focused on the easy banter around him. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, and yet his stupid heart wouldn’t slow down, kept beating faster and faster as they neared the First’s apartment until Cloud was sure everyone in Midgar could hear it.

 

_The Tell-Tale Heart._

 

The door was open again, sounds of someone calling someone else an “Idjit” spilling out into the corridor. 

 

That voice hadn’t sounded like Zack’s, so it was probably the TV.

 

When they stepped over the threshold, Cloud wondered if his heart had stopped in the elevator.

 

There, on the couch, barefoot and cross-legged, munching on a ranch pretzel, was Sephiroth. 

 

The General was dressed in a simple long-sleeved white henley unbuttoned at the top, and crisp faded jeans. 

 

 _Someone’s casual today_ , a voice said hysterically in his head.

 

That obnoxious yellow hair tie was wrapped around silver strands and those brilliant green eyes were turning to…

 

Stare directly at him.

 

_Oh FUCK ME._

 

_Yes, please._

 

Cloud wanted to faint. Then he wanted to run. He wondered if he could run while fainting.

 

He wondered if this moment could just last forever.

 

##

 

Sephiroth had to admit the show was rather good. He liked Dean, and Bobby could always be counted on to tell someone off in that cranky way of his.

 

He wondered why Sam kept whining about everything. 

 

_If you don’t want to do it, then don’t do it._

 

He disliked people who couldn’t make up their minds. 

 

Beside him Zack was peeking over the top of the cushion he’d grabbed when the changelings appeared. The First was hiding behind the cushion every few scenes, making Sephiroth glad their enemies were flesh and blood and metal instead of ghosts and ghouls. 

 

They’d started early this morning, when another stupid flash had sent Sephiroth jerking upright in bed panting, wondering why he’d felt Cloud crying out around his fingers. He’d cleaned up, irritated, and hit the training room to calm himself down before taking a shower and barging into Zack’s at 0600. The First had still been in bed, had clearly not learned his lesson about sleeping in the nude from _that_ time, landing hard on his ass on a remote control for…something…when Sephiroth had sent him tumbling off the giant king-sized bed with its mismatched sheets. 

 

He assumed Services had given up trying to keep the black-haired man’s apartment picture perfect. 

 

Somehow, despite the early wake-up call, the First seemed perkier than ever. It would have made Sephiroth suspicious, had Zack not immediately started yelling at the TV as he was wont to do. 

 

Why the First thought he could communicate with characters in a TV show was beyond him. 

 

As it was, the show had started out a little slow, which meant Sephiroth wrested the remote control from Zack and started watching at his usual speed until the episode about a shapeshifter robbing banks caught his attention and he slowed the speed to normal. The next episode after that had been somewhat interesting too, with its premise of divine justice, though Sephiroth had started speeding through episodes again after that, occasionally stopping to look at interesting scenes such as when the woman realized she was actually a ghost haunting the same road she’d died on. The reference to roadkill had brought back memories of the fate that had befallen his men last week though, and he sped through the next few episodes despite Zack’s protests, phoning in to Services for the black-haired man’s second breakfast in order to shut him up.

 

The First had happily stuffed his face on blueberry pancakes covered in honey, maple syrup, chocolate sauce, whipped cream and vanilla ice cream while Sephiroth tried not to wrinkle his nose at the stench of sugar and artificial flavoring, focusing instead on how the brothers on screen were trying to find a way to kill Azazel after Dean sold his soul to bring his brother back to life.

 

Sephiroth wondered briefly how many such deals would be made in their world, which was filled with far too much death.  

 

He was munching on a ranch pretzel when he heard the elevator _ding_. It was too early for their Wutaian, which meant Zack had ordered yet another delivery from Services to try and fit on the coffee table, which was already barely able to hold all the bowls of snacks on its surface. Those poor attendants to SOLDIERs’ senior officers must have been wishing the General and Zack were on a mission somewhere. 

 

Services could blame Hojo for SOLDIERs’ insatiable appetites. Mako made even the smallest eater a ravenous beast. 

 

The ranch pretzels were delicious, actually, though Sephiroth would ever admit it. If he did, Zack would fill his office with the savory snacks, just as the man always stuffed him with Wutaian. 

 

Not that Sephiroth was complaining. It was his favorite cuisine - he’d spent most of his life in the labs eating nutrient-packed engineered mush that tasted like cardboard, and rations on missions were odorless and flavorless. 

 

When the scent of cadet soap hit him, he had just taken a bite of another pretzel. 

 

_Cadet soap?_

 

He turned, wanted to kick himself for falling into another of Zack’s traps while another part of him - a very small, infinitesimal, minuscule part - wanted to thank his second-in-command.

 

Then Cloud’s eyes made him forget all thoughts of Zack - brilliant blue already, and he didn’t even have Mako enhancements yet. 

 

The little blond cadet was standing there in the foyer, flanked by his taller friends, looking like everything Sephiroth had ever wanted, everything he’d been obsessing about since that incident in the hallway, everything he’d dreamed about since that little smirk had twisted perfect pink lips, which were now partially open and begging to be kissed as the very pretty cadet stared at him, cheeks flushing and making Sephiroth want to make them flush harder, want to hear those sounds that had tormented him almost every night…

 

“Right on time, boys!” Zack had bounded off the sofa while managing not to spill any of the Smarties in his bowl, setting it on the table somehow as he rushed over to greet the cadets. 

 

The moment was broken, and Sephiroth bit down hard, heard a _crunch_ which shocked him back to his senses.

 

Chewing quickly, he swallowed as he rose to his feet and set the bowl of pretzels on the table, murmuring a quick “at ease” to the cadets as they saluted him, noticing how three of the boys - Johnson, Vikers, and Fontaine - seemed to have caught Zack’s infectious twinkle in the eye disease. The street kid was looking at him coolly, almost warily, which Sephiroth chalked up to his red hair. 

 

The light brown-haired boy from Kalm was gaping openly at the General, while Cloud was…

 

Cloud was locked in a playful side head choke by Zack as the First mussed the blond’s hair. In this position, those breathtaking eyes were blocked from view, and Sephiroth refused to admit he felt disappointed.

 

The blond’s attempt at escaping the chokehold caused Zack’s tricep to rub against his tee, which moved slightly to reveal the edge of a bite mark.

 

Sephiroth had never felt so murderous in his life. 

 

_How dare they? How DARE they?_

 

“Seph!” Zack was dragging Cloud over to him, the blond struggling to keep his footing as the SOLDIER yanked him towards Sephiroth. When they were within reach of each other, Zack stopped, grinning wider, that infernal twinkle in his eye making Sephiroth want to punch it out. He didn’t have time to entertain such thoughts when he was pinned under the sky again. Distantly, he realized Zack was speaking, struggled to listen. “You remember Cloud, right?”

 

That settled it. They would train all day on Monday. 

 

“Of course.” He thanked a God he didn’t believe in for how calm he sounded. “Good to see you, Cloud.”

 

Those eyes widened - _just as they had surrounded by rubble and partially-destroyed buildings as he stood above Cloud, who was wielding a blade reminiscent of the Buster Sword_ \- and blinked, staring at him like the blond knew something he didn’t.

 

But what? What was that…flash? That feeling like it was a memory and yet not at all?

 

“Good to see you too, sir.” The cadet’s voice was low, somewhat breathy, and it was music to Sephiroth’s ears. 

 

Then the blond was being shoved into the sofa, Sephiroth instinctively reaching out and catching him before he slammed his face into the fabric, and Zack was reintroducing all the other cadets. 

 

Not that Sephiroth needed the refresher or cared at that moment. The feel of holding Cloud - the warmth, the softness of skin on a forearm as he helped to right the boy - was making him want to do things he probably shouldn’t. 

 

He nodded at the other boys on autopilot, looked back down at Cloud, who had reached out and grabbed his shirt on reflex when he’d stumbled, and who was staring up at him with those beautiful blue eyes. A flush was creeping up the blond’s neck and cheeks from within his tee, as the boy stood, barely inches from Sephiroth now, and apologized for falling into him.

 

_Zack’s fault, not yours._

 

He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud until Zack’s loud “hey!” and the laughs of other cadets confirmed it. As did the small tilt of perfect lips as Cloud tried to suppress a smile, baby blues sparkling up at him like he was the greatest thing that had ever happened to the world.  

 

It was a look he could spend the rest of his life having on him.

 

“Anyway, sit down, guys! Quit standing around!” Zack was shoving everyone into cushions and the sofa, and Sephiroth gripped Cloud’s forearm almost protectively. That sapphire gaze widened - how much larger could they get? - and the flush returned with a vengeance. 

 

“Sit, sit!” Zack was advancing, arms outstretched, so Sephiroth hastily sat, pulling Cloud down next to him. 

 

That…hadn’t been the wisest of decisions.

 

Cloud was pressed against his side, the top of his blond head barely inches above Sephiroth’s shoulder, as the pretty little cadet stared at him, blushing a brilliant red and making Sephiroth’s imagination run wild.

 

A clap startled them both, and they turned to look at Zack, who was far too smug and gleeful and who would be thrown into the wall at least thirty times on Monday.

 

“SO! We’re watching Supernatural, kids,” Zack wasn’t much older than these cadets, Sephiroth thought in amusement, “ and hey I told you not to bring anything, but thanks! Whisky!” the brunette nodded politely at the First, then laughed when Zack continued, “you underaged punks better drink it neat or else.”

 

“We’re already on the third episode of the third season, do you boys wanna start over or keep going?” Obviously the cadets wouldn’t want to start over and make SOLDIER Firsts rewatch episodes. They shook their heads as expected and Zack smirked, looking even more pleased with himself somehow. “Alrighty! There’s snacks and drinks so help yourselves, Wutaian and pizza are arriving at 1900. This is how we do it in the Bachelor Pad, all my single ladies.” With that, the First threw himself into the sofa on Cloud’s other side - though still an arm’s length away - opened a bottle of whisky from one of the bags Johnson had given him and took a swig without waiting for anyone else.

 

“Hey this is good stuff, thanks kid!” Johnson nodded, spoke easily: “You’re welcome, sir.”

 

Why was a CADET more collected than he was right now?

 

The hedgehog was distributing whisky bottles like the fat man who somehow fit through chimneys, and Sephiroth reached behind Cloud to take his from Zack’s outstretched arm. 

 

That…also hadn’t been the wisest of decisions. 

 

In this position, with Sephiroth leaning over slightly, Cloud was now perfectly ensconced in the inverted ‘L’ created by Sephiroth’s torso and his arm. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, the silver-haired man saw the Fontaine cadet cover his mouth to stifle a giggle. 

 

He was proud of himself for not flushing, leaning back and uncapping his bottle. Cloud resembled a tomato right now.

 

 _A tomato with very beautiful blue eyes and a GORGEOUS face_ , a voice added helpfully.

 

Forget thirty times. Zack was going to make friends with the wall _permanently_. 

 

They toasted to the weekend, Sephiroth having to clink his bottle against Cloud’s and wishing the blond would stop blushing so prettily. 

 

Zack had started up an easy conversation about Supernatural, the Vikers boy going ga-ga over the Impala on-screen, while Fontaine reached over and shut the Kalm cadet's still gaping mouth. 

 

Sephiroth wondered how many flies the boy had caught already.

 

He tried to focus on the show, tried to ignore the way Cloud’s chest and ribs expanded with each breath, bringing that blessed heat closer to him, tried to ignore the fact that he was feeling very out of his depth and yet feeling like this was the way it should be. That this was _right_.

 

He’d never ‘hung out’ with anyone other than Angeal, Genesis and Zack before. He assumed this was something all boys did growing up, but he hadn’t exactly had a normal upbringing.

 

Times like these reminded him that he was a terribly odd 25 year old. 

 

Beside him, Cloud’s flush was fading as the boy took small sips from his bottle. Sephiroth tried to forget how soft the cadet’s skin had been when he’d touched him, how ethereal that face was...how he’d seen the boy wince out of the corner of his eye when the he'd had pulled the blond down onto the sofa. 

 

The murderous feeling was back with a vengeance. 

 

He knew what that wince meant. Coupled with the bite mark hidden by the boy’s regulation tee, and Sephiroth wanted to throw every other cadet out the window _tout suite_. Who did these brats think they were? How dare they touch Cloud? Did they know who he was? How easy it would be to slaughter each and every one of them before they could even blink? After all...

 

“I’m Batman.”

 

Startled he glanced back at the TV. Dean had rescued Sam, _again_.

 

Sephiroth wondered how Cloud would look at him if he ever rescued the little blond. 

 

And yet…

 

He glanced down at the cadet by his side, who appeared for all the world to be enraptured by whatever was happening onscreen. Somehow he got the feeling Cloud never needed rescuing, was too strong and too smart to ever get caught.

 

_He’s just a cadet._

 

That was true. Until the boy joined SOLDIER and got his Mako enhancements, he was physically weaker than their enemies. 

 

Sephiroth stilled at that thought. What would happen to the boy if someone tried to attack him now, when he was still in the program, trying to qualify for SOLDIER? What would happen to Cloud if Sephiroth wasn’t around to protect him?

 

The memories assailed him - of all the men who’d fallen under his command, of the innocent civilians killed in the crossfires of multiple battles despite their best efforts to lead their enemies away from townspeople and villagers. He could never let that happen to Cloud. 

 

Laughter startled him and he glanced up at Johnson and Vikers, who were double-teaming to arm-wrestle Zack and losing badly.

 

Johnson had stepped in and quashed the rumors about Cloud, sent Scarlet to Junon so she’d be far away from Cloud. The brunette was the son of the Godfather, and one of the best cadets they had this intake. 

 

Vikers was a crackshot - the General recalled the way the black-haired cadet had taken down a moving Third in the dark without his goggles, recalled glancing at the boy’s target practice average scores. 

 

The redhead was street smart, was clearly competent since the Turks were eyeing him. 

 

Fontaine had always been in the top ten of the cadet program since he’d joined. 

 

That hulking Corel boy he’d seen onscreen in Battle Sims was a fantastic human shield.

 

The Kalm boy was an excellent…distractor. Probably. 

 

He let out the breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. Cloud wasn’t alone, had friends who looked out for him, who protected him when Sephiroth wasn’t around to do so. 

 

He wondered why he was so obsessed with taking care of the small blond. It wasn’t like Cloud was a weakling. The boy had earned the respect of highly capable cadets - had earned the respect of most of his intake with his skills - had held his own against Zack in a mock sword fight and led his team to victory twice in SOLDIER arenas. 

 

He wouldn’t have to worry about Cloud, Sephiroth knew. And yet, he still wanted to.

 

Zack had started a little quiz with the other cadets, and it seemed the losers had to drink. 

 

It wasn’t even 1530 yet. The man was the Devil - these boys were underaged. 

 

_They’re not that innocent._

 

That was true. None of them were. Sephiroth had been fighting Wutai at their age, had developed total immunity to alcohol and all manner of drugs long before that. 

 

He looked back down at Cloud, wondered why those blue eyes always seemed to stare deep into his soul. 

 

The cadet was blushing again, but he didn’t look away. The little chocobo had balls.

 

 _And balls are a very good thing to have_ , a Zack-voice whispered cheekily.

 

Sephiroth started at that, the similarity to his previous…dream three weeks ago disorienting him slightly. He blinked, realized Cloud had jerked his head back slightly at almost the same time.

 

_What was that about?_

 

They couldn’t both have had the same…thought, could they?

 

Clapping and cheering from the group sitting on the floor had them both turning to see Zack having to take five gulps from his bottle. Clearly the Quiz Master had lost to the combined assault of five cadets.

 

“Seph! Help me out here!” The black-haired First yelled once he’d put his bottle down.

 

He wasn’t going to get dragged into some ludicrous contest of random bits of information. He turned to the TV, took a sip of his whisky - noted it was the kind he usually drank - and told his second-in-command that he was on his own. 

 

The cadets laughed at that while Zack gasped in mock-horror at the General’s ‘betrayal’. 

 

Taking another sip, Sephiroth thought back to several seconds ago, wondered what it was that had caused Cloud to react to something at almost the same time. 

 

_It’s probably nothing._

 

Except that where there was smoke, there was usually fire.

 

He’d get to the bottom of this somehow. For now though, he would enjoy the episode about the brothers killing demons. And enjoy the feeling of having Cloud so close to him. 

 

It was the weekend after all. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 1850 hours. -**

 

_Too easy._

 

Zack smirked as he watched Sephiroth and Cloud pretend to be engrossed in Supernatural while they sat on the couch a hair’s breadth from each other. 

 

_I AM the man._

 

He wanted to pat himself on the back a hundred times.

 

The Wutaian and pizza would be here soon, which meant Zack needed to move to Stage Two while everyone was distracted with organizing the food on the already full coffee table. There was a reason why he’d ordered so many snacks from Services. 

 

Somehow, the other cadets - Fontaine, Johnson, Vikers and Reno - had sensed what he’d been up to. While the redhead still had a wary look on his face whenever he glanced at the General, the others were surprisingly onboard with Zack’s plan. 

 

_Smart kids._

 

He’d need to take them out for drinks one day. They were making it very easy for Zack to get Sephiroth and Cloud to realize what everyone else already had. 

 

_Sephiroth and Cloudy sitting in a tree._

 

He’d find a way to sing that to his commander next week, no doubt during yet another of their “Zack, Meet Wall” sessions. It’d be worth it, but only if everything went according to plan. 

 

He’d anticipated it, but it was still a little surprising how well the cadets held their liquor (well, every cadet in his apartment except the Kalm one). Johnson had lit up long ago, the brunette generously sharing his cigarettes with Zack while Fontaine, Vikers and Reno chain-smoked. Cloud had refused, though Zack had seen the way the little blond had looked somewhat longingly at the sticks of sin. 

 

He hadn’t expected that, but then again the baby chocobo was so damn sweet he didn’t seem the type to even drink or have sex. 

 

He'd wanted to do the Spazzing Seal at the way Sephiroth had looked positively murderous at the sight of the bite mark on Cloud’s shoulder. 

 

_Somebody’s possessive._

 

 _Excellent_ , a very Mr. Burns voice said. Zack had been watching The Simpsons a little too much. 

 

The sounds of the elevator arriving on his floor were a signal that it was time for Stage Two. He’d researched every episode of Supernatural extensively, had skimmed through every episode already, all for the sake of Sephiroth and Cloud. 

 

He deserved a medal for this.

 

As soon as the guards brought the food in, the cadets got to work trying to clear the table to make space for the Wutaian and pizza. It wasn’t easy - the bar counter was full of bottles that Zack had prepared and left out casually on Friday night. Zack wanted to smirk as Cloud tried to help and was told to “sit yo’ ass down, Blondie” by Reno, whose back the General glared at.

 

No one told Cloud what to do, not when Sephiroth was around.

 

Zack badly wanted to do the Spazzing Seal.

 

As the boys somehow managed to get enough food for a village to fit on the coffee table, Zack changed DVDs, grateful for all his Covert Ops experience as he switched to Season 4 while Sephiroth’s view of the TV was blocked by the cadets. 

 

They started to eat, Sephiroth distracted enough by the food not to notice the opening titles had declared this to be Season 4, and not Season 3. The General glanced at the screen in between glances at Cloud, who glanced at Sephiroth when he thought the silver-haired man wasn’t looking.

 

_Just get it on already!_

 

He laughed when Tranton mentioned they’d take forever to finish the food, when a sudden thought came to him and he said: “Not like any of you boys need to be at church tomorrow, right?”

 

He didn’t miss the way Reno’s eyes flicked to Cloud momentarily, the way Vikers, Johnson and Fontaine all shifted slightly in their seats, the way Cloud’s jaw tensed for a split second. Then something odd happened - Cloud’s baby blues became assessing, sharp, and suddenly the disarming, beguiling smile was back and Zack knew he was about to get played big time. 

 

“I know a really nice one in the slums, if you’d like to go next week?” Cloud cocked his head, widened those big blue eyes and looked for all the world like a baby brother beseeching his older brother for one more ride on the swings. 

 

He didn’t miss the way Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed slightly - the General had heard about Cloud’s visits to a Person of Interest in the slums from Zack - but more intriguing was the way Reno’s eyes flicked to Cloud’s again before the redhead glanced at Zack and smirked. 

 

_What game's he playing at?_

 

_Fuck it, YOLO._

 

If Cloud wanted to introduce him to whoever it was he often headed to meet in the slums since his little Matt Incident, then that meant the little blond obviously trusted Zack. 

 

_Score!_

 

“Sure, kiddo!” He grinned, leaned forward and held his pinky out, didn’t miss the light flush on pale cheeks or the way Sephiroth’s green eyes followed their every move curiously. This was probably the first time the General was interacting with people beneath him in age and status on a casual basis, and it seemed the man had opted to observe everything because he had no clue how it was done. 

 

Times like these Zack wondered just how lonely and isolated from the world his commander was. Where other twenty-five year old men spent their weekends at the bar or watching / playing sports together, Sephiroth was trying to protect everyone and fight a War. 

 

_Hang in there, buddy, I got your back. It’ll work out, I promise._

 

When Cloud reached out and wrapped his delicate pinky around Zack’s, the First grinned wider. “It’s a date, Spiky!”

 

The blond’s fair skin reacted exactly as Zack had planned, and the dark-haired SOLDIER wanted to do the Spazzing Seal at the way glowing green eyes instantly honed in on a very attractive flush. 

 

While he had the feeling he’d walked right into Cloud’s trap, Zack couldn’t wait to meet the mystery person that Cloud obviously knew well. 

 

He leaned back, grabbed another slice of pizza and gestured towards the stir-fry with the floppy extra-cheesy pepperoni triangle. “C’mon, eat up. You both love Wutaian, don’t you?”

 

Emerald eyes met sapphire, and Cloud blushed harder. 

 

_I AM the MAN._

 

Everything was going according to plan. On to the next step of stage two.

 

They ate in silence, with only soft requests for passing the pizza or the stir-fry or fried rice, until Zack noticed Cloud was slowing down. Kid needed to eat more, no wonder he was tiny.

 

He chewed his little slice of heaven, swallowed and turned to the other cadets. “OK boys, who’s got cards?”

 

He wanted to laugh at how very suited for the Turks the redhead was. 

 

“Loser drinks.” Johnson and Reno smirked. This was going to be interesting.

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2330 hours. -**

 

Cloud wondered if his Hero Worship of Sephiroth could get any worse. It turned out the General was a brilliant poker player - which shouldn’t have been surprising given his perpetually calm demeanor and superior intelligence, and yet somehow it was.

 

He hadn’t realized how little he’d known about the silver-haired man before, when he’d hunted him to the ends of the world. And after that, when they’d met again among the rubble of Midgar…

 

_Stop thinking about it. Focus on something else._

 

_Like what?_

 

_Like…clothes!_

 

_…seriously?_

 

His voices were having a field day. He shoved them away and considered the fact that he’d never known what Sephiroth looked like out of his battle gear until he’d seen him in a business suit more than a month ago. Then he’d seen him partially out of his business suit last week, and now he was sitting next to a very handsome warrior who’d rolled the sleeves of his henley up to reveal beautifully toned forearms as elegant fingers spread the cards they held with the ease and style of 007. 

 

_James Bond’s got nothing on him._

 

As the General leaned forward to snag another piece of beef with his chopsticks - the man made even those cheap wooden bits look majestic - long silver hair whispered against Cloud’s bicep. 

 

At this rate, he’d lose all movement in his limbs. Why the hell did his blood not want to go anywhere but to his head?

 

Zack was leaning back and refusing to play anymore, seeing as how he’d been made to finish three bottles of whisky since the game started. The other boys were tipsier than Cloud had ever seen them, though they were still gamely attempting to hold their own against the General.

 

And Cloud…

 

Cloud was trying to remember that he was playing a game of poker, and not stare at an impossibly perfect face all night. 

 

Sephiroth won again, though the silver-haired man opted to drink anyway because Zack had plenty of whisky that the General appeared to favor. 

 

A soft _pfft_ , and Brian had fallen over onto a cushion, passed out from losing non-stop to his superior. The others were laughing, and even Sephiroth looked amused, the corner of his lip twitching slightly. Cloud wondered what it would take to see a smile on that beautiful face.  

 

Zack was suggesting they put Brian in the guest room, and instantly Ray, Ralph, Jared and Reno rose (somewhat unsteadily) to their feet. Cloud tried to rise but was waved back down by Zack, who was getting up as well and who had somehow pressed fast forward on the remote. Cursing, the black-haired SOLDIER hit ‘Play’ once he’d gotten to his feet before leading the others - who were each holding one of Brian’s limbs - down the corridor. 

 

Which left Cloud alone with Sephiroth. He tried not to blush again, focused on the TV to distract himself from the silver-haired man’s presence, thanked the Ancients that there was something to fill the awkward silence, then…

 

_OH._

 

Onscreen, the red-haired angel was staring deep into the eyes of Dean, who smiled and kissed her as the sounds of…some part of a drum and possibly an electric guitar filled the living room. 

 

So sue his lack of musical knowledge, but Cloud only knew how to play a certain song on the piano, nothing else. 

 

The tough older demon hunter was kissing the angel and pushing her down in the back seat of his Impala - Cloud would never forget the name after Ralph had whispered it worshipfully about a hundred times - as a soulful voice sang.

 

_Walkin' down this rocky road_

_Wonderin' where my life is leading_

_Rollin' on to the bitter end_

 

The two characters were starting to remove their clothes. Cloud could understand why. It was getting rather warm in here - Zack’s thermostat was probably broken.

 

_Finding out along the way what it takes to keep love living you should know how it feels my friend_

 

Cloud was feeling VERY warm. And very awkward watching the two onscreen make out half naked while he sat next to the love of his life.

 

_Oo I want you to stay_

_Oo I want you today_

 

It was absolutely time to hit the head, seeing as the pants were off onscreen. He tried to stand, wobbled slightly as all the alcohol he had consumed rushed to his head and reached a hand out to steady himself before realizing he would end up touching Sephiroth, which would be a Very Bad Idea right now but…

 

As he was hesitating, his body went ahead and decided to take the plunge. He tipped to the side, braced for impact but was caught by strong arms just as he half-sat on Sephiroth’s lap. 

 

_I'm ready for love oh baby I'm ready for love_

 

He vaguely registered the characters onscreen going at it, before his traitorous body turned and he faced the man of his dreams - literally and figuratively.

 

_Ready for love oh baby I'm ready for love_

 

Were Sephiroth’s pupils always so large? He recalled them being more slit-like, but he couldn’t be sure. Not with the heat from the tall SOLDIER’s hands and thighs seeping into his body and making him relax unconsciously. 

 

_Oh, for your love._

 

Why were Sephiroth’s eyes becoming larger? 

 

The sounds of the guitar washed over him, his vision was being filled with glowing emerald, a warm whisky-tinged breath was hitting his lips...

 

A whistle snapped him out of the trance and he nearly fell back into the coffee table, laden with bottles and food and cards, but strong hands caught him again as Zack sauntered back into the room.

 

“Damn! Missed the good stuff!” 

 

Cloud was pretty sure he cook could an egg on his face.

 

The others were walking back into the living room snickering and giggling, looking like they’d just done Something Very Naughty. He felt the General setting him back on the sofa gently, didn’t dare to chance a glance at the silver-haired man. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kick himself or everyone else for coming back into the living room when they had.

 

He faced the TV, trying to pretend nothing had happened, that he’d just tipped over on his way to the bathroom, saw Zack fiddling with the remote as the First rewound to before _that_ scene.

 

“Angel getting it on with Hunter, boys.” The dark-haired SOLDIER grinned wolfishly at the other cadets, who’d settled back on the cushions looking like the Cats That Got The Canary And The Cream. 

 

Cloud told himself to breathe, just breathe _and calm down, nothing happened, nothing happened, nothing happened_ …

 

Then twinkling blue eyes were on him and he almost had a heart attack at Zack’s words. “Anything happen while we were gone?"

 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss Sephiroth because, well, it was Sephiroth, or because the General sounded so calm and matter-of-fact when he responded: “I believe Cloud is rather tipsy and needs to hit the head.”

 

He wasn’t sure if he liked that the silver-haired man sounded so calm about the Thing That Didn’t Almost Happen. How could he remain so cool and collected, when Cloud was redder than Red XIII’s backside and his heart was probably waking all of Midgar up with its loud, rapid beats?

 

Before the negativity could start, before the whispers of _because you’re insignificant_ could get louder, there was a chuckle, then Zack’s eyes sparkled more. “Don’t think he’s the only one who’s tipsy, Seph. The tops of your ears are red.” 

 

_Wha…?_

 

Cloud snuck a peek, and felt oddly gratified when he realized what the First had said was true.

 

_He’s just drunk, that’s all._

 

Except from what he remembered of Mako enhancements, one _couldn’t_ get drunk at all. Something about a superior metabolism, which explained the appetite and the…’appetite'. 

 

_Oh no no NO._

 

Cloud was NOT thinking about sex while sitting next to Sephiroth. 

 

_Gunny Payne in a bikini, Gunny Payne in a bikini…_

 

Zack was chuckling again as he put his hands up in mock surrender before clapping and declaring that it was time for Charades. 

 

By the time the cadets stumbled back to their bunker, half-dragging Brian whom they’d somehow managed to partially awaken, Cloud was grateful for the sweaters Zack had lent them. It was COLD outside. 

 

They made it back in time to catch the last legs of another Booze Binge in the bunker, before the alcohol and exhaustion won out and everyone decided to call it a night / morning.

 

As his head hit the pillow, Cloud couldn’t deny that it had been the best weekend he could ever recall having.

 

_Thanks, Zack._

 

He hadn’t thought he could owe his black-haired friend any more than he already did, but life was funny that way. 

 

## 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: "You can't fuck the future. The future fucks you” is a line from Saturday Night Fever.
> 
> A/N 2: Krav Maga is a military self-defense system developed for the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) and Israeli security forces (Shin Bet and Mossad). It’s used by fictional characters such as Jason Bourne.
> 
> A/N 3: ‘Muchier’ and ‘muchness’ are from Alice in Wonderland.
> 
> A/N 4: 'Resonance of Fate' is a PS3 RPG set in a post-apocalyptic Earth, the surviving humans living in a Tower that is ordered by social class. In RoF, everyone is watched over by a machine that protects them from the effects of pollution in the contaminated world outside, while giving them predetermined lifespans and social status.  
> 
> A/N 5: “Always trying to save humanity from hell” is a spin on a quote about the UN: “The United Nations was not created to lead humanity to heaven, but to save it from hell”. Felt there were some links to Mad Sephiroth’s goals. 
> 
> A/N 6: “When this cruel war is over” is an American Civil War song from the side of the Union (the United States of America, specifically the national government of president Abraham Lincoln and the 23 free states and 5 border states that supported it). Source: Wikipedia. 
> 
> A/N 7: "No, come to think of it, if I had to, I'd put my faith in science. Because of science, humans who used to crawl around on the ground can now fly, and soon we're about to go into space! I've earned my living thanks to science, so to me, there's nothing greater.” Is a Cid quote from FF7. Also, Star Trek references thrown in and more hints about Ralph, his uncle, and Rocket Town (I dropped some mentions in the previous chapter). More to come for all the characters - both FF7 and OC. 
> 
> A/N 8: “For Duty and Humanity!” is a quote from the Three Stooges - a reference to parts in the past two chapters where Ralph, Reno and Jared were referred to as such by Cloud.
> 
> A/N 9: Mata Leão is a back head lock and strangulation method taught in Krav Maga and several other arts. 
> 
> A/N 10: “No Church In The Wild” is a song by Jay-Z and Kanye West. ‘Lies on the lips of a priest’ is part of the song lyrics. 
> 
> A/N 11: The betting pool about Seph’s knees touching the ground is a direct reference to the part in Bleach where Renji successfully gets Byakuya (his captain, and a nobleman) to kneel through his improved battle skills.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N 12: References to selling drugs to children, and the Salozzos are lifted off Godfather. Also, an Associate is one who works with mobsters, but hasn't been asked to take the vow of Omertá; an almost confirmed, or made guy (Source: Google). 
> 
> A/N 13: Supernatural episodes that the characters watch in this chapter are:
> 
> \- When the cadets are arriving and hear “Idjit”: Season 3 Ep 3 "Bad Day at Black Rock"
> 
> \- The one with changelings is Season 3 Ep 2 “The Kids Are Alright” (and those changelings ARE freaky).
> 
> \- The one with the shapeshifter robbing banks is Season 2’s “Nightshifter’. 
> 
> \- The one after Nightshifter, about divine justice, is Season 2’s “Houses of the Holy”.
> 
> \- The one with the woman realizing she’s a ghost is Season 2’s “Roadkill”.
> 
> \- When Dean sells his soul to bring Sam back: Season 2 finale “All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2”
> 
> \- When everyone’s seated and has their whiskies: still Season 3 Ep 3 "Bad Day at Black Rock” - when Dean has rescued Sam (including by throwing a pen/pencil into the nozzle of a pistol thanks to a cursed rabbit’s foot’s powers)
> 
> \- When Cloud and Seph are left alone in the living room: Season 4, Episode 10 “Heaven and Hell"
> 
> A/N 14: The resonance-dream that’s mentioned in this chapter is detailed at the end of Chapter 6.
> 
> A/N 15: I am taking some liberties with ages of characters - just as timelines change slightly (eg. Zack being SOLDIER First before meeting Aeris, etc) and relationships between characters are “created” (e.g. Reno being a cadet with Cloud; Cid having a nephew etc) in this fic. While Aeris has mentioned that things changed thanks to Cloud, it is also for plot purposes that I’m being a bit creative while trying to keep to the original as much as possible (though it’s hard to stick completely to the original canon when this fic is all about changing things). Will explain everything as the story progresses (I dislike revealing everything straight up - it’s not how life works, and rushing straight to the endgame removes a lot of what makes life “life” - all the little nuances and small encounters that add to each of our stories), so I beg your patience on this, gentle reader.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix.
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, and yaoi. Also Cloud hooking up with others, and author taking serious liberties with characters’ back stories. Don't like, don't read.
> 
> A/N: Pretty fast update again because even I'm impatient to get the show on the road (hint: the parts I'm excited about are in future chapters, and I can't get there without getting over this chapter first). More back story reveals, and am setting this world up further. Some may feel a little chuffed at how attention is being shifted slightly. I understand a lot of people are a little impatient for the main event (I would be too, honestly. Heck if I were you guys I’d strangle me for being MIA for so long), but it’s a large world full of different characters whom I’d like to do justice to. And without giving too much away, there are several different…plots being introduced but everything will (hopefully) come together (eventually). AAAAAANNNDDDD I’m secretly a sadist masquerading as a realist ;) Chapter 12 (currently underway) and the chapters after have bits that might redeem me. Again, fair warning: am not sure when I'll be able to update as I'm starting a new job this coming week and am permanently exhausted (but the Muses won't leave me alone, so we'll see).

**Almost Karma - Chapter 11**

**By StarSongVII**

##

 

**\- Monday. 0527 hours. 10 weeks to SOLDIER Exams. 6.5 months to Nibelheim. -**

 

Zack could barely muster the energy to stand - he’d lost count of how many times Sephiroth had flung him into the wall, and yet the General was standing there waiting expectantly for him to rise to the occasion.

 

It was worth it, he told himself. _It was all worth it_.

 

He was back to making friends with the wall less than five seconds later, groaning and pulling himself to his feet somehow. 

 

 _I love my job, I love my job, I LOVE my job…_  

 

It was too damn early for this abuse, though that had probably been part of Sephiroth’s plan as well. The man was a sadist and a half.

 

Zack supposed he had asked for it, but _really_ would it kill the silver-haired man to say ‘thank you’? He wasn’t even asking for a medal or a gift (though he’d very much like to be best man at the wedding, thanks). Zack had done what he had knowing full well he’d be ‘reprimanded’ for it later after all, had done it all out of the goodness of his wonderful heart, and here he was being treated as little more than a rag-doll by a brat having a hissy-fit. 

 

_Throw tantrums, not people._

 

That should be a new SOLDIER tagline.

 

He was intimately acquainted with the wall again, wondered how much more abuse the solid concrete could take as he struggled against the urge to just roll over and play dead. 

 

If he called it quits now…

 

He’d never be able to live with himself. Sephiroth would never respect him again. 

 

The man did so love seeing how far he could push people before they broke, though he kept those ‘tendencies’ hidden for the most part. Or maybe he only did it to Zack - the First would never know. 

 

_Heroes don’t give up. Heroes don’t back down, no matter what._

 

He grit his teeth and walked back to where Sephiroth was standing in the middle of the vast SOLDIER First training room, getting into his battle stance and raising his chin in silent challenge to his commander. The slight tilt at the corner of thin lips somehow made the ache fade slightly, filled him with reckless daring.

 

"That all you've got?” He smirked, knowing he’d pay for his cockiness but refusing to back down. The General could throw him into the wall a thousand times, and that wouldn’t stop him from trying to fight for his friend’s happiness. 

 

_Heroes die for their friends._

 

And Sephiroth was Zack’s friend. He’d never give up on him, never give up on finding a way to put an end to the silver-haired man’s loneliness once and for all.

 

It helped that Cloud, whom he’d come to truly like as a slightly-messed-up-and-overly-introverted-but-really-super-sweet-baby-chocobo, was the answer to the pursuit of Sephiroth’s happiness. And it was definitely Fate - it was absolutely Perfect, possibly a result of all the good Karma they’d somehow sowed (maybe) - that Sephiroth seemed to be the light at the end of the little blond’s tunnel too. 

 

_Oh someone’s gonna be tunnelling soon, alright._

 

_Everyday Seph's tunnellin’._

 

He didn’t have time to do the Spazzing Seal at his brilliance - barely had time to blink - before the force of the Masamune’s strike sent him flying.

 

 _Here we go again_. 

 

He supposed singing that song to Sephiroth hadn’t been the wisest of ideas, but it really was a great song.

 

_Sephiroth with Cloudy sitting on his knee_

_K-I-S-S-I-N-G_

 

He wondered if his commander was pissed at Zack tricking him and Cloud into spending Saturday together, if Sephiroth was just pissed at himself for falling for yet another ploy of Zack’s, if the General was pissed that Zack had staged it all so brilliantly right down to the almost-kiss, or if his friend was pissed that Zack had walked in on them on purpose and made _sure_ it’d been an almost-kiss that would haunt both the blond and the silver-haired man until they consummated this ridiculous attraction they both had for each other. 

 

_Probably all of the above._

 

His friend hadn’t even broken a sweat yet, while Zack was panting, shaking, and pretty certain he was bleeding somewhere. 

 

That realization, the visual proof of their difference in power, was starting to piss Zack off. He charged at his commander, decided to pull a move he’d seen Cloud use on Reno last week, wanted to cheer when it worked and the General finally budged from the spot he’d been rooted to since they’d started. The way green eyes narrowed promised a world of pain, as Sephiroth clearly came to the conclusion that Zack was up for more punishment. 

 

_Bring it._

 

After all, he was Zack Fair, Brigadier General Extraordinaire. 

 

##

 

**\- Tuesday. 1455 hours. -**

 

They were walking towards Driver’s Ed when a hoarse voice reached their ears.

 

“Jess! Jess! Jessica Fontaine!”

 

That sounded like Cid. But…

 

Spinning around, Cloud gaped. Loping towards them was an emaciated, scraggly, dirty blond man with an unhealthy pallor. Whoever it was looked nothing like Cloud’s friend, looked nothing like the bold, brass pilot he’d come to rely on to always pull him to safety. But there was no denying it - that voice had been Cid’s. At least, Cloud was pretty sure it was, even though this person approaching them looked NOTHING like Cid. 

 

As the figure neared, Cloud turned to Ray, who nodded and sent the others away silently. It was only five of them by the time the man reached, though Cloud did notice Ralph getting more and more tense as the thin figure in ragged clothes approached.

 

He wasn’t the only one. Jared had become a statue, face pale and lips almost translucent, eyes more white than green. 

 

“Jessica!” It was Cid, no doubt about it. Those eyes, that voice…his face was unrecognizable under the unkempt beard, cheekbones protruding over sunken hollows. 

 

His heart ached even as his mind raced. 

 

_Cid, what happened to you?_

 

Cloud had only ever known Cid as tough and smart, foul-mouthed but not foul-smelling: the greatest pilot and mechanic in the world, someone who always had his shit together, who would step in when Cloud went astray. 

 

Who was this man, who looked half-starved and who stank of cheap whisky and cheaper cigarettes? 

 

He was shaking Jared, who hadn’t moved or spoken a word. 

 

“Jess! It’s you, isn’t it? It IS you! I knew it! I thought you were dead!”

 

At that last word, Jared snapped back to reality - shoving Cid away from him and stepping back, trembling and breathing harder than he should be. 

 

Cid had stumbled when Jared shoved him, almost falling over but catching himself with some of that familiar grace, some of that ease with which the pilot had always stood tall and steady despite turbulence or whatever ridiculous tricks he liked pulling in mid-air. 

 

The man was staring open mouthed at Jared, reaching out a trembling hand as he blinked bloodshot eyes furiously. The fog seemed to clear somewhat, but Cid still looked confused. 

 

“J…you’re…”

 

Jared had gotten himself under control by then, though his lips were thinner than Cloud had ever seen them, voice colder than Cloud had ever heard.

 

“Jessica Fontaine was my mother,” the blond said through gritted teeth. “And you’re right - she’s dead.”

 

At those words, Cid seemed to sag and shrink, mouth opening and closing but no words came out.

 

_How does Cid know Jared’s mom?_

 

It was no doubt the same question on everyone’s minds. Ralph was still tense, still watching Cid’s every move with an almost desperate light, but there was confusion in the dip of his brow.

 

A shaking hand tried to run through scraggly locks, got caught on a snag and Cloud wished desperately his old friend would get his act together, would take a shower and not let anyone see him like this.

 

_Please, Cid…_

 

Something seemed to click in the pilot’s mind, and he started slightly. “You’re…you’re her kid. Jay...James…no, Jared. You’re Jared, aren’t you?”

 

Jared nodded, tense. Probably wondering who this weird hobo was. Cloud was surprised the dirty blond was entertaining the dirty blond, but he assumed it had something to do with Cid knowing Jared’s mother. 

 

_Yeah…what’s up with that?_

 

Cid’s beard was moved a few times before he asked: “What…after…where did…did someone adopt you?” The flash of darkness in green eyes, the rage that twisted a young face shocked the pilot into silence for a few seconds. “What happened to you...after?”

 

Jared was standing stiffly, glaring at the man but somehow it didn’t seem he was mad at the very intrusive question from a stranger. “Shit happened.”

 

The look in Cid’s eyes hurt. It was so full of shame, so full of sorrow and pain, it made Cloud’s voices look tame. 

 

Then Cid’s eyes flicked to Cloud’s right, and his face twisted beneath a wiry beard. Cloud turned slightly, saw Ralph standing stock still staring with bright eyes at his friend from the future.

 

_What in the name of the Ancients’ BACKSIDES is going on?_

 

Had Cloud really been that oblivious? Had he really not noticed so much before?

 

The beard moved, from within it came the stench of whisky and stale cigarettes, but no sound emerged. Ralph still hadn’t moved a muscle.

 

Cid lifted one ratty pant leg, leaned forward then set his foot back down in the same spot. This was going nowhere, Cloud had to do something. But what? What could he say when he had no idea what was happening, how Cid knew Jared’s mother and Ralph, when he could barely recognize his old comrade?

 

He looked into familiar blue eyes, bloodshot and pained. 

 

_I know you. I KNOW you._

 

Those eyes, the memories of his friend rushing to his aid time and time again without any concern for his own safety, laughing as he pulled the Highwind into another insane flip in mid-air, cursing as he struggled to keep pace with Cloud’s speed, toasting to their success and to a brighter future together…those eyes emboldened him and he stepped forward, reaching out a hand. 

 

“Hello, Mr. Highwind. I’m Cloud Strife. It’s an honor to meet you.”

 

Cid’s eyes widened, darted to Cloud’s then darted away before looking at a single outstretched hand. 

 

_Please, Cid._

 

A dirty, trembling hand, stained with tobacco but not grease, reached forward and clasped his. Cloud wanted to cry at how good it was to hold his friend again, to have those familiar yet alien eyes on him again.

 

“Cid Highwind.”

 

That gaze flickered slightly, and Cloud wondered if this was another ‘resonance’ thing. Then Ray and Reno were stepping forward, introducing themselves, and Cid released his hand to turn to the other cadets and greet them. Cloud didn’t miss the way Ralph was staring at him, no doubt wondering how Cloud knew Cid’s name when the black-haired cadet had never mentioned it, never mentioned any connection to the cranky pilot. If anyone asked, Cloud would just chalk it up to Nibelheim’s proximity to Rocket Town.

 

He looked at Ralph questioningly, cocked his head towards Cid and waited. It took Ralph all of two seconds before he let out a ragged breath before gesturing weakly at Cid. “This is my uncle, guys.”

 

_WHAT?!_

 

Cid had a NEPHEW?! 

 

Cloud had never heard of a nephew, had visited Rocket Town hundreds of times and only ever met one other person - Shera. He’d seen other townspeople milling about, had seen other men and women standing on their porches looking at him, had seen children giggle and run up to Fenrir, but he’d NEVER seen Ralph in the future. He was sure of it. 

 

_What the Ifrit..._

 

What had happened to Ralph? Where was he in the future that Cloud knew? A future where Sephiroth had gone mad and Zack and Aeris were dead?

 

He recalled the thought that had unsettled him the other day, a ‘memory’ of a future where Ralph and Ray had gifted him with Fenrir. 

 

He desperately needed a drink. 

 

Cid’s fists were clenched at his sides, eyes unreadable in the shadow of messy long hair and unruly eyebrows. Ralph’s jaw was clenched tight, lips pulled in a straight line, eyes determined and defiant. Cloud turned to Jared, saw the closed expression on the taller cadet’s face, wondered again at how he could get them to talk before they missed all of Driver’s Ed.

 

So sue him but he only got to ride once a week. And he missed Fenrir. 

 

_Alrighty. Let’s get this show on the road._

 

He looked at Cid, asked the question everyone no doubt had on their minds. “How do you know Jared’s mom, Mr. Highwind?” It felt weird being so polite to Cid.

 

That question seemed to knock Cid out of whatever it was running through his motorhead. He shook scraggly locks, tried to run a hand through his hair again and Cloud almost winced at the sight of the hand catching on knots as dandruff flaked off. 

 

“Jess…I mean, Jessica Fontaine and Johnny Blaze, they were old friends of mine.” Cid was clearly out of it if he was answering the questions of a teenager without swearing. “Back in the Space Cowboys’ day.” 

 

_…'Space Cowboys'?_

 

_What the fuck?_

 

Either Cloud had really missed out on a lot in future, or his return had REALLY changed things. 

 

His confusion must have been evident, because Cid cleared his throat and continued. “That’s what we called ourselves - all those in Starfleet, before everyone started calling the…'place' Rocket Town.” At the mention of the town’s name, Cid’s eyes darkened and Cloud saw Ralph shift slightly in his peripheral vision.

 

_Starfleet?_

 

This wasn’t some TV show about space explorers and aliens, goddammit. 

 

Cid was looking at Jared again, expression more haunted than Cloud had thought possible. “I…I heard they’d died. Some said illness, some said the War…"

 

Jared shifted his weight slightly, expression still hard and emotions shut off. “Crashed doing a stunt.”

 

Cid squeezed his eyes shut, but not before Cloud saw the flash of pain and grief. Then blue eyes opened and Cloud wished his friend had kept them closed. 

 

“I’m sorry, kid.” The voice was hoarse, heavy with sorrow. “If I’d…if I’d known, I’d have…”

 

Jared seemed to lose it at that, tensing up like a spring and balling his hands into fists as he shook, forest green eyes spitting fire. “You’d have WHAT, old man? WHAT?!”

 

The fury in Jared’s voice startled them all, and Cid visibly took a step back, beard moving again as he opened and closed his mouth soundlessly. 

 

“Jared!” Ralph was glaring at the blond, shoulders tight and hands clenching partway. Cloud wondered if he’d have to intervene, wondered how he’d even try to diffuse the situation when so much was going over his head. 

 

Thankfully the sound of Ralph shouting his name seemed to shock Jared back to his senses and he unclenched his fists, taking a sharp breath and exhaling quickly, face set in a mutinous expression as he looked away. Ralph let out a breath loudly, cursed as he ran a hand through his own hair as he looked the other way. Cloud wondered why everyone was so terribly dramatic. 

 

_Pot? Kettle?_

 

He hadn’t the slightest idea what to do right now, so he opted to follow Ray’s and Reno’s leads - those two always seemed at ease, always appeared calm and collected no matter what. If they weren’t saying anything, then neither would Cloud. He’d already tried twice. 

 

_Third time’s a charm._

 

But what should he do? How could he help?

 

A gentle breeze seemed to carry the sound of wind-chimes along with the scent of metal and gunpowder. Cloud didn’t believe in divine intervention, despite everything that had happened, but he did believe in a green-eyed angel with a pink ribbon in her hair. 

 

The wind seemed to have carried the tension away, and Cid’s eyes were clearing, though the self-reproach was still there. 

 

“I’m really sorry, kid.” There he was, the Cid Highwind that Cloud knew. Not all of him, but part of him - the pilot was standing straighter, his voice was steadier, eyes sharper. “You’re right. I’ve been living at the bottom of a bottle so long, I couldn’t have helped you.” Those eyes darkened again. "I couldn’t have helped anyone.” 

 

Jared flushed, looked down at the ground as he kicked a pebble about, hands behind his back as he twisted his fingers around each other painfully. 

 

Ralph butted in. “That’s not true, Uncle Cid! It’s not your fault, none of it was! It was that woman’s, that stupid…”

 

“Ralph Vikers!” The tone was brusque, authoritative. Cloud was beginning to feel like he was back on the Highwind listening to Cid rail at the “useless fucking wankers” working for him who “couldn't run a fucking airship even if their nana’s stroked their tiny fucking cocks and read the fucking manual to them."

 

The black-haired cadet stilled, glaring defiantly at his uncle, jaw clenched and expression more rebellious than Cloud had ever seen. 

 

Cid sighed again, shoulders dropping slightly and making Cloud wonder if his friend had retreated into his hollow shell once more. He needn’t have worried.

 

“Yeah, that woman played a part, kid,” he stuffed dirty hands into dirtier pockets, some flecks falling off his pants at the movement. “But it was on me in the end.” The pilot’s expression darkened. “And now I’ve come to beg.”

 

Ralph started, jerking back before his eyes narrowed and he hissed at his uncle. “Beg?! BEG?! You spent 10 years resisting them, TEN YEARS refusing to bow to Shinra, and NOW you want to give in?!” The Rocket Town cadet was advancing on the man. “What happened to your pride?! Why now?! WHY?!” He had grabbed the front of a filthy shirt, was shaking the pilot viciously. "It won’t make a damn difference! The ones who died aren’t coming back! Giving in to Shinra won’t change a fucking thing and you fucking know it!”

 

The sound of a slap startled them all. Ralph was holding his cheek and staring incredulously at his uncle, throat working, but he was clearly too shocked to say a thing. 

 

Cid’s eyes were spitting fire, and Cloud suddenly felt on familiar ground again. “You think I don’t know that, you damn punk?!” The man spat on the ground, gesturing emphatically with his hands. “You think I don’t _fucking_ know that it won’t change a _fucking_ thing? That I can’t bring the dead back? That they died because of my God damned PRIDE?” He shoved Ralph away and the shell-shocked boy stumbled backwards, would have fallen over if it wasn’t for Reno reaching out to steady him. The pilot took a deep breath, exhaled and Cloud’s eyes almost watered at the smell. 

 

A sudden thought seized him and he wanted to giggle. Was Cid wearing dentures in the future? Coz the way his breath smelled right now…

 

_Stop it, stop it. Focus._

 

His inner voice chuckled as it tried to sound stern. 

 

“I lost. Wasn’t fair ’n square, but I still lost.” Those eyes looked hollow, desperate. “The Town’s in bad shape. We got no money, no food, no medicine, no heating, and winter is coming.”

 

Ralph was gaping at him, then his eyes narrowed into slits. “Don’t tell me you sold her for booze?”

 

Cid’s head snapped up and he glared at the cadet. “You think I’d sell the baby you built? I’m a DRUNK, not a bastard, you fucking punk.”

 

_Oh hello, Cid. Good to see you again._

 

The black-haired boy had the decency to look chagrined, before the mutinous expression returned. He looked about to say something, but Cid beat him to it. 

 

“I ain’t sellin’ the Bronco. Not when ’s all I got left of you.” Ralph’s stunned expression must have unlocked something in Cid, because the pilot continued, voice gaining strength with each word, sounding more and more like his future self with each breath. “You left, kid. An’ I don’t like it, but I know you got your reasons. I KNOW.” He gave Ralph a meaningful look. “So I gotta do what I gotta do to save the Town. An’ if that means working for Shinra, then I’ll fucking work for Shinra and any _fucking_ idiot who’ll pay enough to save the _fucking Town_.”

 

Ralph’s mouth was opening and closing soundlessly, and Cloud wondered why everyone was having issues with their volume control today. 

 

He wondered at the fact that Ralph had built the Bronco. Wasn’t it Cid who’d built the Tiny Bronco? 

 

This past-present-future thing was giving him a migraine. 

 

Cid straightened, the determined look in his eyes at odds with how defeated his voice sounded. “’s my fault, in the end. ’s all my fault that you had to suffer for so long, sell the babies you built…’s my fault your brother died. ’s all my fucking fault and I’m trying to fucking fix it, ’n this is the only _fucking_ way I know how to _fucking_ do it.”

 

_Ralph had a brother?_

 

Cloud needed a stiff drink and a cigarette. From the looks of it, they all did.

 

Ralph was still staring at Cid with wide, wild eyes. Everyone was just looking between the two like spectators at a tennis match. 

 

A few moments of silence passed, before Cid turned to Jared. “I dunno what it’s been like for you, kid. Your parents were good people, good friends of mine. ’N I wish like hell I’d been there for you when they passed.” Jared nodded dumbly, expression stormy and eyes glassy. “But I was fucked in the head, ’n that ain’t an excuse I know, but I’m tryin’ to fix things now.”

 

_Join the club._

 

“But,” Ralph’s audio-visual issues had been resolved, apparently. “But Uncle Cid, Shinra…”

 

A harsh glare silenced him. “I KNOW, brat.” A breath, and Cloud was so engrossed in the conversation he barely noticed the smell. “I know.” A heavy sigh. “But this 's the only thing I’m any good at. ’N if it makes Shinra happy, if it makes them fix the Town ’n protect us…” Another sigh. “Man’t gotta do what a man’s gotta do.” 

 

_Amen to that._

 

Cid looked like he was trying to convince himself more than Ralph as he continued. “I’ll build their damn rocket, so long as they take care of everyone.” He nodded, eyes turned inward. “I’ll do whatever those fuckers want, so long as they save the Town.” 

 

_What the HELL is going on?_

 

Cloud figured the rocket Cid was referring to was Number 26. If he recalled correctly, it’d been built and the mission aborted _after_ Nibelheim…right? 

 

Ralph was staring at the ground, expression almost as dark as his hair. Something in his young friend’s expression, in his old friend’s expression, spurred Cloud into action. He spoke almost without thinking, words tumbling from his lips as though he was Yuffie promising to give all the Materia back so long as Cid landed the Highwind.

 

“You can do it, Cid.” The pilot stared at him - no doubt wondering why a kid was referring to him so casually, so intimately - but Cloud didn’t care right now. He had to help his friends, he HAD to make things right. “You can build the rocket, and you can save the Town. You’re the best pilot, the best mechanic in the world - that’s why Shinra wants you so bad. So make them give you everything you want in exchange. Win-win, right? They get their rocket, and you get to go to space.”

 

Everyone was staring at Cloud like he’d grown a second head. He flushed, felt like a total idiot, but refused to look away. He didn’t usually say this much, but he couldn’t not do anything when his friends needed him. 

 

Ray was the first to catch on to what Cloud was trying to do. He would have kissed the brunette if it hadn’t been broad daylight, and if he didn’t still have that nagging feeling, that voice that kept whispering about him having a chance with Sephiroth and not fucking it up. 

 

The Junon cadet was speaking - confident and self-assured as always. “Cloud’s right, sir.” Cloud wanted to kick him for being so polite. “I’ve heard all about you - about how you built a working rocket before you were 21, something no one else has been able to do since then. They say there isn’t anything you _can’t_ make. Don’t think about this as losing or giving in, sir. Think about it as you making Shinra work for you.”

 

There was a light in Cid’s eyes that had started to glow as Cloud spoke, that brightened with every word from Ray. But it wasn’t enough. If only…

 

Ralph spoke, and the light was clear as day in Cid’s eyes. “They’re right, Uncle Cid.” The black-haired cadet was looking straight at the pilot, expression prouder and more determined that Cloud had ever seen it. “There’s nothing you CAN’T do. Who cares who won or lost back then? If it’ll save the Town, then that’s all that matters.”

 

The familiar Cid was back, cocky grin hidden under his moustache and beard but obvious in his voice. “Damn straight, brat.” He stood tall now, looked just like the Cid who had challenged Sephiroth, challenged Jenova, challenged anyone and anything that threatened his friends and his home. “I’ll beg on my fucking knees if I have to, but I’ll save our home.” 

 

Ralph was grinning too, that devilish grin that made the dark-haired cadet resemble the infamous pilot so much Cloud blinked. 

 

Ray was speaking again, and Cloud realized their pep-talk wasn’t over. They were just changing tack. “Wouldn’t beg if I were you, sir.” The brunette winked. “Tell them you’ll do it if they make you Chief Aeronautical Engineer and Head of the Space Program.” 

 

_So that’s how it happens._

 

This past was creating the future that Cloud knew - when he’d met Cid in the Days of Future Past, the man had been Chief Aeronautical Engineer. Was this how it’d happened in Version 1.0? Cloud couldn’t have been sent back to the past before to create the future he knew, because the future he knew was one where Sephiroth had gone mad and Cloud had been too dumb and powerless to stop it. But if time was a loop, an endless circle that kept feeding itself…

 

He would definitely beat Sephiroth to the Madness if he kept thinking about it. 

 

Reno had jumped in, the redhead not having spoken since he’d introduced himself. “Pretty sure you can make bank as Head of the Space Program. Don’t let ‘em rip you off, sir.” Trust the street rat to focus on the moolah.

 

Jared was back to his usual self, the blond winking at Cid in that cheeky way of his, the one-liner not perverted but still focused on appearances: “May I suggest a haircut and a shave?”

 

_And a bath, and some clothes that aren’t rags._

 

Cloud was becoming as fabulous as Jared.

 

Cid started, grinned. “Am I out of style?”

 

Reno laughed. “Unless you’re a 20 year old guitarist from Del Sol. It’s a grunge thing.”

 

The pilot snorted, gave Reno a side-eye that made Cloud want to hug his old friend. _After_ he took a shower and changed. “You tellin’ me about grunge, kid? I used to get high with Kurt, numbskull - back when you were all suckin’ on your mamas’ titties”

 

Cloud hadn’t known that. That was actually pretty cool. 

 

_Smells like teen spirit._

 

“Alright!” Cid clapped, nodded. “I got a meetin’ with those damn Shinra punks in an hour. Time to cut a deal and build a fucking rocket!”

 

Ray grinned, winked at the Cloud. Their pep-talk wasn’t over yet. 

 

“Sure you can do it on your first try, sir?” The brunette looked perfectly curious and concerned. “I mean, it’s been awhile…"

 

Cloud smirked. “Maybe after about 25 tries, Ci…sir.” Cid had only succeeded on Number 26, after all.

 

Cid gaped at them, snorted and cussed. “You fucking punks. I did it ten years ago, didn’t I?”

 

Jared winked. “You know what they say about guys who talk big…"

 

Reno grinned. “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

 

Cid laughed, sounding ten years younger and exactly like the Cid in the future. The tension had eased, the cranky pilot was back to being himself, almost. Ray seemed to share Cloud’s thoughts.

 

“If I may, sir,” the Junon cadet was as polite as ever. “Since you have an hour before your meeting, maybe you’d like to drop by Vidal’s in Sector 2 for a little ‘refresh'? Tell him Ray Johnson sent you - he’ll know what to do.”

 

Cid blinked, and Cloud braced for the familiar bristle but it seemed the pilot’s sense of pragmatism won out as he looked down at himself, winced, and nodded. “Alright, kid. Just this once.”

 

They all let out the breath they’d been holding, having expected the man to put up a fight. Then Cid was giving them a stern look, though the effect was reduced somewhat by the wiry strands of his eyebrows covering blue eyes. “Don’t you brats have some sort of dumbass class right now?”

 

_Whose fault is it that we’re late?_

 

Corporal Lemmy didn’t really care about attendance, for which they were fortunate. Cloud didn’t want to spend the weekend tooth-brushing urinals. 

 

They turned to go, though Ralph hung back slightly, seemed more hesitant than the others had ever seen him as he struggled with his audio controls again. Cid seemed to understand though, the blond man grabbing the boy’s neck and pulling him close in a hug - Ralph somehow didn’t react to the smell - before shoving him away. “Go.” He looked at the dark-haired boy meaningfully, and Ralph nodded and turned. The cadet had taken only two steps towards the others when Cid’s gruff words reached him. “I’ll always be proud of you, kid.”

 

Ralph froze mid-step, eyes going impossibly wide before they glinted obsidian in the sunlight, biting his lip slightly before he turned back to his uncle and smirked. “What else you gonna be, old man?”

 

Cid snorted and laughed, pretending to aim a kick at Ralph, and the cadet turned and dashed off towards Driver’s Ed while rubbing his eyes and grinning. Then Cid was looking at Cloud and the others, and the man nodded at them. “Thanks, brats.”

 

As the pilot turned and headed towards the gates - how had he even gotten past Security? - his next words floated back to them and Cloud smiled. 

 

“If you fucking punks ever fucking speak to me like that again, I’ll kick your puny asses so hard it’ll make your ancestors dizzy.”

 

_Welcome back, old friend._

 

##

 

**\- Tuesday. 1900 hours. -**

 

Cloud wondered what was going on. It was rare for Zack to look almost disturbed, brow furrowed slightly and deep blue eyes darker than usual. It was even more rare for Zack to ask him to step out into the hallway when they were supposed to be training.

 

He followed the First out of the training area, curiosity and concern building as the dark-haired man shut the door and sighed. 

 

_What…what’s wrong? What happened? What’s upset you? Did Sephiroth…_

 

"Are you hurt?” he blurted, wanting to kick himself when Zack stared at him. The SOLDIER was obviously fine and in good health, so why was Cloud freaking out and acting like it was Nibelheim all over again?

 

Cloud had been spending way too much time with Brian, their resident worry-wart. He blamed it on all the drama that had taken place earlier today, the way Jared had been so completely out of it he’d fallen off his bike in Driver’s Ed - twice. 

 

The fond smile was back on a handsome face as Zack ruffled his hair, chuckling. “You’re way too sweet, you know that, kiddo?”

 

_You’re not much older than I am, you know._

 

He was glad he’d cheered Zack up somewhat, though he was still concerned. The dark-haired man’s pensive look was still there, and Cloud didn’t like it. 

 

Zack ran a hand through dark spikes, sighing, and Cloud wondered whose ass he had to kick to make his friend feel better. It seemed his worry was plain as day on his face, because the SOLDIER gave him another amused look and that side choke-neck hug that he seemed to enjoy pulling on Cloud.

 

“I’m OK, chicky. Don’t worry.” The sincerity in Zack’s voice relaxed the blond a little, but he was still going to worry. “It’s just…I’m sorry, Cloudy.” 

 

_Sorry?_

 

Zack had NOTHING to be sorry about. He’d given his life for Cloud - what could the man possibly be apologizing for?

 

“I know I pinky-swore to go to that church with you this weekend,” the First was continuing, looking guilty. “But I gotta head off on a mission now, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”

 

_…seriously?_

 

Zack had been acting like the world was ending over _that_?

 

Alright, it wasn’t a small thing - Cloud had been looking forward to introducing Zack to Aeris this weekend, but…

 

“There’s always next weekend, or whenever you’re back.” He smiled in relief, tried to temper it into a smile of reassurance. Clearly it had worked, because Zack’s eyes brightened and the cloud seemed to have vanished from his features. 

 

“Yeah, I know, but…” Zack sighed again, but it didn’t sound as heavy as before. “I don’t like breaking promises, and a pinky-swear is the most important kind there is.” 

 

Cloud wanted to laugh at how very Zack that was, at how wonderful his friend was and how he should spend more time focusing on himself instead of worrying about everyone else. He felt his lips twitch, knew he was smiling when he replied: “You think too much.”

 

He’d never had the chance to say that to anyone before. Usually everyone was saying that to _him_. It felt good, actually. 

 

Zack was grinning, ruffling his hair hard and shaking a blond head like he was mixing a martini. “That’s coz I’m not blond, you little twerp.”

 

Cloud laughed at that, wanted to hug his old friend and tell him…

 

_Don’t go._

 

He looked up at Zack then, and the worry must have shone through because the SOLDIER frowned, mouth turning down at the corners.

 

“It’ll be OK, Cloudy. Don’t worry about me. I’m too good to get hurt.” Zack winked, grinning, but Cloud could see his friend didn’t fully believe that either - or maybe he had something else on his mind. A cold hand gripped his heart tight - what if he never saw Zack again? What if his friend never came back? What if…

 

_'What if’ what? What can you do about it anyway?_

 

That was a good point. Cloud was just a cadet - what could he possibly do about Zack’s missions, about Zack’s safety?

 

_What makes you think you’re better than him?_

 

His head was being shaking like a martini again, and Zack was pretending to look offended. “Seriously, Spiky. Do I look like someone who’ll get my ass kicked so easily?”

 

That was true - Zack was Zack. He was brilliant and strong and smart, capable of doing anything and saving everyone single-handedly. And this time Cloud wouldn’t be there to hold him back and pull him down. This time, Zack would be OK. He had to believe that, couldn’t freak out every time Zack had to do his job - it wasn’t Nibelheim yet, and Zack was a SOLDIER First Class who’d saved Cloud’s life. 

 

He took a deep breath and exhaled, nodded firmly. “Be safe.” _And come back alive_. He couldn’t say it - death was an occupational hazard - and it felt wrong to voice such a thought, like it would jinx everything, so he held back. 

 

_Separation anxiety, much?_

 

How was he going to make it to SOLDIER if he couldn’t deal with people leaving on missions without him? Heck, what made him think that just him being there would stop Death? He hadn’t been able to stop Aeris and Zack from dying, after all.

 

_Stop it!_

 

He couldn’t be this morose, didn’t want to send his friend off on such a miserable note. No, better to let Zack know that Cloud would be cheering him on, would be waiting to welcome him home.

 

Knowing that there were people waiting for you, caring about you; knowing that you had a place to come back to - that made all the difference in the world. At least it had to him. He hoped it was the same for Zack.

 

He smiled up at his old friend, held a hand out. “See you soon, Zack.” 

 

Zack’s larger hand enveloped his almost completely, warm and solid and comforting. Just like the man himself. 

 

Cloud watched his friend head down the corridor, saw the SOLDIER turn and wink at him before disappearing around a corner, before he realized Zack hadn’t made any promises about being safe or seeing him soon.

 

##

 

**\- Tuesday. 2200 hours. -**

 

Jared had been expecting this since that man - Ralph’s uncle - had accosted them en route to Driver’s Ed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

 

The five of them were seated on the couches in the common area, Ray having told Grant to keep everyone else away as usual, and now his four friends with benefits were looking at him expectantly. 

 

Ralph had already given a brief explanation to them about what his uncle had been talking about, more for Cloud’s benefit than anyone else’s (the other cadet put the ‘dumb’ in ‘dumb blond’ sometimes - how could he NOT know about Rocket Town’s past when he came from Nibelheim?!). 

 

Sometimes he hated Cloud. Hated the pretty little blond whom everyone from fellow cadets to the General himself seemed gaga over, hated how the Nibelheim boy had everyone twisted around his pinky finger with his sweet face and big blue eyes, hated how the kid seemed to have everything going for him, hated his innocence and hated the pain that lurked behind haunted sapphires. 

 

But more than that he hated himself for hating the other, for wishing that Cloud was as broken and tainted as he was, because the other boy had never once been cruel or unkind towards him, obviously cared about him from the way he’d been casting glances at Jared since this afternoon, and just wanted to help.

 

Part of Jared wanted to tell Cloud where to stick his do-gooder concern, while another part wanted to cry on his shoulder and hear a soft voice tell him that everything would be OK. 

 

Times like these he hated himself, hated everyone who’d ever wronged him, hated Life for the hand it had dealt him.

 

Times like these he hated how much he wanted to run away, to hide behind the familiar. Jokes and being flippant didn’t allow anyone to know what really mattered to you. Sex was the only thing he was good at, the only thing he was good for. 

 

A light touch on the top of his hand - which he hadn’t realized had been gripping the arm-rest painfully tight - and he looked up into familiar silver eyes.

 

_Ray._

 

He’d promised Ray he’d change, that he’d do better. And he had - he’d stopped selling himself for money after the fifth time the other boy caught him trying to go down on a Family member, started hacking and racing for a living instead. It was how he’d met Ralph - in the Races, when the other boy had been desperate for cash for his sick mother, completely in over his head and about to be cheated of his chance at the pot.

 

_Ralph._

 

The other cadet had been nervous but determined, brash but afraid. Had killed but had never been kissed.

 

Ray had found him at his lowest, filthy and diseased and prostituting himself. He’d met Ralph at the black-haired boy’s most desperate, when the Rocket Towner had been ready to do anything for his family. 

 

Ray had taken him in, given him a safe place, taught him that there were other ways - other paths - given him access to a whole new world through his computers and garage and library. 

 

Ralph had trusted him completely, taken his every word as gospel and tried to give Jared his winnings in gratitude, only asked to keep enough to buy the medicine his mother needed. 

 

They knew his story - Ray more than Ralph - and they didn’t care how defiled and wretched he was. But more than that, they understood - knew that sometimes Jared needed to be touched by someone whose use of force wasn’t aimed at breaking his spirit, knew that sometimes Jared needed to be reminded that what happened in the bedroom stayed in the bedroom.

 

He took a deep breath, let it out, and glanced at Cloud and Reno.

 

Reno was a street rat - likely the son of some used and using hooker, had possibly been abandoned at birth the way bastard children of whores usually were in the slums. Had probably sold himself for money too, done things that no child should ever have to do in order to survive. Reno would understand, no doubt.

 

Cloud…

 

Cloud had been an idiot, a weakling - pathetic and naive and stupid at first, reminding Jared so much of how he'd been before the world fucked him over. Jared had alternated between wanting to tell him to go home - because he had a home where he wasn’t treated as a fuck toy, as a punching bag - and breaking him in to the ways of the world violently and sexually. 

 

The feelings had twisted within him, tormented him with their contradictions, and he’d fallen back on default behavior - sexual innuendos, lewd comments, offering his body to anyone who would take it. 

 

Ray and Ralph had noticed, had always been there to fill the emptiness inside with their presence and their bodies. But they were just kids at the end of the day - just two fifteen year olds with shitty stories like him - and they didn’t know how else to help, what else to say or do. 

 

Then Cloud had snapped Matt’s arm, had changed into someone who seemed older than all of them and more hurt and broken than any of them could ever be. Jared had kept a distance and observed at first, watching from afar even when Reno had taken the plunge, had wandered over to sit with the other blond only when Ray and Ralph did because his curiosity was getting the better of him. 

 

He’d wondered at the darkness that clawed its way through sky blue eyes sometimes, wondered at the ease with which the smaller boy fought every opponent like it was as natural to him as breathing. Had Cloud been pure and sweet, just an intelligent student who picked up textbook skills quickly, Jared would have stayed away from the blond and his little Circle of Influence. But the pain that radiated from those eyes, the loneliness and sorrow that he’d caught flashes of, _that_ had told him that Cloud was someone who’d been beaten and broken before - someone just like him.

 

It didn’t stop him from being jealous of how well the boy was treated by everyone, didn’t stop him from wanting the General and the Brigadier General to look at him that way too. He’d been hoping that the silver-haired SOLDIER would realize what an idiot Cloud could be - with his vapid blushing and awkward social skills - but at the same time he’d been hoping that Cloud would be the one to claim the most eligible bachelor in the world. Because a part of him still wanted to believe that fairytale endings - that Happily Ever Afters - still existed, could happen to people as tainted and defiled as them. Because a part of him was waiting for someone to prove it before he’d dare allow himself to believe. 

 

The first time he’d kissed Cloud, he’d wanted to pour all his darkness into the other boy so he’d be as rotten as Jared felt. Yet when he’d seen the desperation, the way the other blond took their abuse so willingly, he’d known that no matter how much darkness he carried, Cloud had more - had it worse. 

 

It hadn’t stopped the hatred, the envy. But it HAD fed the other voice within him - the child who just wanted to believe in things like stardust and rainbows - that told him even those with their roots firmly in the mud could blossom on the surface of the lake. 

 

He focused on twin pairs of blue eyes, saw how Cloud and Reno were seated perfect mirrors of each other, physically separated by two feet of space and furniture but body language displaying their bond and connection. 

 

He knew they’d understand - that they all would - but he wasn’t sure if he wanted them to know Jared Blaze.

 

Ralph shifted next to him, and Jared recalled the way the Rocket Towner had told part of his story last week, part of his story this week. How no one had pressed for more, let him take his time and open up as much as he felt comfortable with. If they were so patient with Ralph…

 

Would they also be the same with him?

 

He knew Ray would - had experienced first-hand the brunette’s patience and compassion - despite the Junon cadet being the son of the Godfather, growing up surrounded by violence and hypocrisy, surviving assassination attempt after assassination attempt from strangers and family alike without ever losing his faith in humanity, his belief that he could protect and serve. 

 

The hand on top of his was warm, firm. Ray was here - Ray had always been there for Jared since they’d met five years ago. 

 

He took another breath, still wavering, until the look in Cloud’s eyes peeled Jared Fontaine back. 

 

Those blue eyes were captivating not because of their brilliant color or perfect size and shape. They arrested the soul because of the kindness and empathy, the wisdom and maturity, the pain and sorrow, the determination and strength that shone through no matter what the blond thought he was doing to hide them. 

 

Cloud would always have Jared’s back - regardless of whether he was Jared Blaze or Jared Fontaine. 

 

He parted his lips, and let his story tumble forth. Through it all, baby blue eyes never left his, never turned away, never shut him out, never changed. 

 

_His parents had been famous stunt daredevils - Johnny “Ghost Rider” Blaze and Jessica “Hellcat” Fontaine, the two greatest riders the world had ever known, heralded for their death-defying feats and incredible grace on wheels._

 

_They’d traveled all over the world, performing in sold-out arena after sold-out arena to crowds of beer-belching, red-necked adrenaline junkies. His mother had been flying through a Ring of Fire when her water broke._

 

_When the War started, the arenas became less crowded, the ticket revenues reduced. The men had left to fight, the women had had to work, and no one wanted to be in crowded places with minimal exits when a bomb went off._

 

_So the stunts had gotten more daring, the tickets and arenas cheaper, until the Ghost Rider and the Hellcat were putting on shows anywhere they could - including barren wastelands and cluttered landfills - in order to earn enough money to fill their bellies and feed their appetite for traveling and riding._

 

_When he was 8 years old, they’d crashed into each other in mid-air when his father hadn’t been able to get enough lift on his old bike, and they fell entangled from the sky, breaking their necks and crushing their skulls beneath their twisted rides. His uncle - their agent - had adopted him and settled down in the nearby trailer park, had pulled Jared's pants off and shoved himself in deep less than an hour after they’d buried his parents, had spent the money his parents had been saving on whisky and drugs and gambling._

 

_On his ninth birthday, he’d woken up to see his uncle choking to death on his own vomit on the ground, face and body twisting painfully as the man struggled for air, reaching a trembling hand out towards Jared._

 

_He’d stood there, stock-still, still leaking between his legs but used to it, still hurting from the tears within but used to it, before he’d thrown on some clothes, grabbed whatever money he could find and left._

 

_At the time, he’d thought he’d be damned if he’d save the monster. He realized later that he was damned because he’d become one._

 

_One year later, he’d somehow ended up in Junon, sucking cocks and bending over for anyone with a few gil, wondering when he’d finally have the guts to just hang himself or swallow some rat poison, until a well-dressed, handsome young boy about his age had walked into the alley while he’d been trying not to throw up from the stench of the man fucking his mouth._

 

_He’d assumed the boy and the men who surrounded him within minutes just wanted him to bend over too - hadn’t believed the young master truly wanted to give him a place to stay, a bath, clean clothes and food that wasn’t scraps. Hadn’t believed the beautiful, petite woman who’d told him that he could stay as long as he wanted. Hadn’t believed the people with the gloves and the surgical masks only wanted to tend to his wounds and treat the diseases. Hadn’t believed the scary-looking man with the scar across his face who’d told him that there were other ways to earn a living - whether honest or dishonest._

 

_Hadn’t believed this wasn’t some elaborate ruse - some way of giving him everything he wanted before cruelly taking it all away - some way of hurting him further, until he’d realized how deeply he’d been hurting Ray by not believing in him._

 

_He hadn’t stayed long - hadn’t wanted to be a burden to them despite their assurances to the contrary, hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life as nothing more than a weakling who always needed someone else to survive. He’d promised Ray that they would meet again someday, when he could face himself in the mirror and know that he’d made it on his own, and set off one cold winter’s morning with the money and food they’d forced him to accept, taking his mother’s family name because the boy leaving the Johnson manor was not the same one who’d walked in one year prior._

 

_He’d learned to ride before he could walk, had perfected that skill with the expensive cars and bikes in Ray’s garage, so he put it to good use - joining street racing crews, motorcross competitions, even the Races on occasions when money had been tight. That was where he’d met Ralph - the young mechanic and inventor having rocked up to the Races with a homemade ride that somehow managed to take all the abuse and leave everyone in the dust._

 

_He’d learned how to hack ATMs from a fellow nomad not long after leaving Ray’s - the older boy having wanted to show off and impress the pretty young blond - and started diversifying his source of income as Shinra started clamping down on illegal races, as the War made its way into the Underworld._

 

_One day he’d been walking around Midgar looking for an ATM to hack when he’d witnessed a black-haired SOLDIER in plainclothes rescue several people from a burning building. The man had caught him staring at glowing eyes, at the way the burns healed even as he breathed, and told him that wounds healed, but a life lost never returned._

 

_He’d signed up the next day, standing in the queue wondering what the hell he was doing, when a tap on his shoulder had him spinning around to gape at the broadly grinning face of Ralph Vikers. He’d been ecstatic to know that they were assigned to the same bunker, and even more overjoyed when he’d seen Ray putting his things into his locker._

 

_He’d believed it was Fate that himself and these two boys - one who’d found him and one whom he’d found - had been reunited so soon._

 

 _He’d believed he’d left his past behind._ _Until this afternoon_ _when Ralph’s uncle had spotted him and shaken him literally and figuratively, tearing away at his peace and carefully constructed persona, leaving him absolutely useless in Fireteam Formation and private training with Mendez._

 

_And now here he was - laid bare for the four to see: Jared Blaze._

 

“No.” Cloud’s voice was firm, hoarse from the lack of lubrication as the blond hadn’t moved a muscle the whole time, hadn’t reached for the drink he’d purchased from the vending machine earlier. Jared started, gripped Ray’s hand tight to hide the shaking, hated how a single word from the tiny blond was enough to make him quiver and shake like the stupid kid in the trailer park crying for his dead parents and screaming through the rape.

 

“Not Jared Blaze.” Those haunted eyes had a determined look to them, daring Jared to contradict him, daring the darkness within the taller blond to come forth so he could tear it to pieces. “You’re Jared Fontaine, and we’ll always be joined as one, remember?”

 

Those words - he’d said them to Cloud last week after that Scarlet woman had accosted them in the hallway, after that mad moving mannequin had said those things to Cloud that made Jared want to curl up and wish she’d never turn his way, yet at the same time wishing she would so he could rip her plastic face off. 

 

He didn’t know when it happened, but suddenly he was on the floor with Cloud in his lap, gripping the other boy tight as he sobbed into a thin yet firm chest as the others rubbed his back and ruffled his hair. 

 

If this was Fate, then he wanted to kiss her fair lips for the sunshine after all the storms. 

 

He wasn’t unwanted anymore, wasn't a burden.  He wasn’t another stupid mouth to feed, the reason for his parents’ death, a dumb kid who was only good for spreading his legs, a useless brat who had it coming - he wasn’t any of those things his uncle had said he was. 

 

And yet…

 

He groped a pert, firm ass, heard Cloud squawk with surprise as the others laughed. Old habits died hard, true, but sex was fun now. Was for play, not pay. 

 

He didn’t know how else to pay them back, to show how much he appreciated everything - though just as each of them was learning and growing, he suspected he’d find a way some day. Maybe. 

 

In the meantime, he liked it Wet with a side of Wild. The more the merrier after all.

 

Jared leaned back, smirked, knew his eyes would be swollen and red during Crazy Bastards Training but he didn’t care if he looked like a complete and utter wreck in front of them. 

 

Alright, who was he kidding, he _did_ care but only a little. Someone had to be the Blond Sex Kitten, now that Cloud clearly had eyes solely for the General. 

 

It was a position he’d gladly fill. Anything for his friends. 

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 2245 hours. -**

 

The voice through their aviation headsets informed them that they would be landing in Rocket Town in thirty minutes. Instantly the SOLDIERs were awake and alert, as though they hadn’t all been sound asleep just seconds before.

 

Zack flicked his gaze over the men, nodded to himself, and focused on mentally preparing himself for what was to come. 

 

There was a reason why he’d avoided making Cloud any promises.

 

Thinking back to the little chocobo, he realized his behavior had been decidedly not cool - how could he have worried the baby chicky so badly? 

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

 

He should’ve come up with another reason, should’ve been more flippant about the mission, but somehow it felt wrong to lie to the blond. Not when big blue eyes looked up at him so sincerely, not when a fragile heart was beginning to open up to him. 

 

He’d really wanted to go to the church with Cloud this weekend. Not only out of curiosity - who was this person under Turk surveillance that the cadet seemed to know well? - but because Cloud had decided to trust Zack and show him part of his world.

 

When Sephiroth had told him about the mission after their little ‘training’ session, while Zack had been patching himself up in the locker room, he’d wanted to kick the older man hard. Of all times…

 

But they were fighting a war. And the look in Sephiroth’s eyes had told Zack that the General didn’t like making Zack break his promises, but duty called.

 

He’d gone back to his apartment after they’d run through the mission plan three times in Sephiroth’s office, had tried to take a nap and stuff himself with real food, but his thoughts had kept drifting to a spiky blond head. 

 

If Zack broke his promise…would Cloud ever trust him again?

 

_One step forward, two steps back._

 

The kid had trust issues, that much was obvious to everyone. But somehow, through _something_ Zack had done, the little blond had decided to open up to him slightly. 

 

That was why he’d been honest and told the kid about the mission - he didn’t want Cloud thinking he was skipping out for some silly reason or other, didn’t want to betray the blond’s faith. He hadn’t told the tiny cadet about the previous mission because he knew the super sweet chocobo would have worried his pretty little head over it, even when Zack was clearly home safe. And he’d been right - the flash of fear in Cloud’s baby blues when he’d stared up at him, the way the Nibelheim boy had looked so terrified at the thought of losing Zack…he’d wanted to be able to reassure the kid, tell him he’d be back soon and they’d go to the church as planned. But he couldn’t lie to Cloud. Not when the boy cared for him, not when the sweet little blond was beginning to trust him. 

 

He wanted to sigh, but he had to be strong in front of his men. In another chopper, Sephiroth was doubtless going over the plan for the thousandth time in his head, calculating probabilities and outcomes, trying to be sure of every possible factor at play. 

 

He wanted so badly for them all to go home, for his silver-haired friend to spend time with Cloud and then maybe the two of them would get their game on and reach nirvana.

 

Cloud had been living in Sephiroth’s heart-shaped box for weeks after all.

 

He recalled the way his silver-haired friend had looked at him when he’d mentioned that the move he’d pulled at the end of their little ‘Anger Management’ therapy had been a Cloud Original. Green eyes had widened, staring into Zack’s, then glowing emeralds had sharpened even while the corners of thin lips lifted. 

 

The General clearly couldn’t wait for the cadet to join SOLDIER so he could meet him as an equal - one-on-one in the virtual, simulated reality of one of their training rooms. 

 

They were landing now, and Zack wondered if the combined hover downwash caused by thirty choppers would blow the little caravan town away. He was unclasping his safety harness as soon as he felt wheels on the ground, was out of his seat and disembarking in seconds. He’d never enjoyed being confined in a flying metal can - they made for easy targets, strapped in and unable to protect themselves when shit hit the fan.

 

He looked around, noted tents and cheap plastic furniture being flung around in the light from the choppers, saw rusty trailers shaking and metal sheets that doubled as roofs of shacks flying off. People were hiding, no doubt, clinging on to whatever furniture they could as the arrival of Shinra’s SOLDIERs and regulation army rocked their little town. Only the garages - those chop shops and workshops that had enabled Rocket Town to survive for as long as it had - were sturdy and firm, defiant against the force of Shinra’s arrival. 

 

In the distance, he could make out the silhouette of the rocket that had given the caravan encampment its name and taken all hope from its inhabitants. 

 

The cranky pilot, Highwind, was exiting his helo now, standing steady against the combined force from thirty choppers’ rotors. The man had been unrecognizable when he’d rocked up to the hangar in Midgar - his hair was short and neat, facial hair trimmed so that all that remained now was mild stubble, eyes clear and breath smelling only of tobacco, not whisky. His clothes were clean and functional - cargo pants and a t-shirt beneath a simple jacket. He looked nothing like the filthy hobo who’d flown SOLDIERs to dangerous locations for years at Shinra’s orders. 

 

He wondered what it was that had changed the proud pilot’s mind - had made him agree to Shinra’s terms after ten years of resisting. After that ‘incident', Rocket Town had been in bad shape - it wasn’t under Shinra’s protection, which meant the War and the Gangs had run amok through unpaved streets, and it lacked access to the stable energy of Mako. The offer had remained on the table - both an honest proposal and a mocking taunt. Cid Highwind had lost the bet, had had to do Shinra’s bidding as their pilot of last resort for years under threat of the town being “wiped from the map”, but had refused to build a rocket for the corporation and therefore denied his fellow townspeople access to electricity and much-needed aid. 

 

He’d heard about the man’s intrusion into the cadet grounds - about how he’d been calling for a woman whose last name was the same as Cloud’s blond friend's, how the Famous Five had stood and spoken to him (violently at times, though word was that only the pilot and his nephew had gotten violent with each other). Zack wondered what had transpired. Whatever it was, it seemed to have given the broken, bitter man a new lease on life: blue eyes - usually hate-filled and angry, clouded over in an alcoholic haze - were clear and determined. 

 

The choppers had powered down but kept their lights on, and Zack could see townspeople were starting to creep out of the sad wrecks they called home, staring with suspicious eyes at the SOLDIERs, staring with angry eyes at Highwind - no doubt wondering what mess the man had gotten them into now. 

 

A man who resembled Cloud’s black-haired friend approached with an old lantern, face worn and weary, eyes wary. “Cid?”

 

The pilot nodded, signature cigarette already clenched between his teeth. Zack had been surprised to note that the pilot still had all his teeth and that they were in decent condition - had assumed that the beard and moustache hid gaping holes and rotting parts. 

 

“What did you do NOW?” A blond woman was approaching, face distrustful and angry. “Why are THEY here?”

 

Zack didn’t miss the slightly hurt look on the pilot’s face, but it was gone in an instant as he straightened. “I made the deal, Cind.” 

 

This must be Highwind’s sister, and Vikers’ mother. While her son had clearly taken after his father in appearance, there was no mistaking that keen gaze - full of fire, barely restrained. 

 

She was gaping now, staring wide eyed at her brother, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as her throat worked. At length, an incredulous voice escaped: “You…you made the deal?” Then the familiar anger was back. “After TEN YEARS? TEN FUCKING YEARS?! NOW you make the deal?!”

 

The pilot was looking down at the ground, expression pained but jaw firm. More townspeople were whispering, some muttering in anger, others shaking their heads in disbelief. Zack didn’t blame them - they’d suffered for a decade because of Highwind’s airs.

 

_Geddit, geddit?_

 

It seemed his internal joker was beginning to wake up at 2320. 

 

The black-haired man - Vikers’ father - had a hand running through dark strands as he stared at Highwind, before a pragmatism and humor that resembled his son’s resounded. “Well, it’s about time.” He clapped Highwind on a thin shoulder, and Zack didn’t miss the way that simple action brightened the blond pilot’s expression. Then the dark-haired man was looking at them, eyes lingering on where Sephiroth stood to Zack’s left before focusing on his brother-in-law. “What’s with the swords?”

 

Highwind turned slightly, glanced at the SOLDIERs and army grunts behind him before turning back to the man. “They’ve got a mission. But they brought doctors and aid workers and supplies.” His voice was firm - expression defeated and resigned yet determined. “They’re gonna fix the town up, protect it from now on.” Then blue eyes darkened. No need to wonder what it was he was thinking about - his capitulation to Shinra: he would build them the rocket their best scientists and engineers hadn’t been able to. 

 

Zack saw some people covering their mouths, faces stunned and expressions teary, traces of anger lingering but dissipating before A New Hope. 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sephiroth turn and nod. Instantly the Shinra employees moved - doctors walking towards the townspeople asking if there were any requiring treatment, aid workers organizing supplies and calling for a representative from each household to step forward. 

 

Highwind was still with his family, and it seemed Vikers’ parents were asking about the cadet. The pilot nodded, told them he’d met their son, and Zack saw the blond woman’s face change immediately - expression longing, hopeful. “He can come home now, right? Now that Shinra’s here and the gangs can’t touch him? My baby…my baby can come home?”

 

The pilot looked to the side, at Sephiroth and Zack, before turning back to his sister. “Ralph…he looked like he was doing good there, having fun. Kid’s got some great friends.” A wry grin twisted thin features. “Fucking punks.” His tone was fond, grateful. Zack really wondered what Cloud and his friends had said to the man. 

 

It seemed the temper ran in the family. Highwind’s sister looked furious again, but this time there was no restraint in her eyes, which spat fire at her brother. “You FUCKING asswipe! Why didn’t you bring him home?! If you were making the fucking deal, you could’ve brought my baby home!” Then something seemed to snap within her and she screamed. “You already killed one of my sons! YOU! You and your damned pride! Now you want Ralph to join SOLDIER and fight a fucking War?!!! How many children do you want me to lose?! How many more until you’re satisfied?!!!”

 

The pain that twisted thin features made something twinge inside Zack, as did the way the pilot’s shoulders drooped, eyes clouding over and hands starting to shake. The man hadn’t reached for the bottle the whole time they’d been traveling - SOLDIER didn’t allow alcoholic beverages on its transports, and the pilot hadn’t drunk anything but water during their brief stopovers in Junon and Del Sol - but the urge to crawl to the bottom of a barrel was no doubt returning. 

 

“Cindy.” The voice was firm, sounding like Cloud’s friend’s but older, wiser, wearier. The blond woman turned to look at her husband, expression still furious. 

 

“Don’t fucking ‘Cindy’ me, Will!” She turned back towards her brother, hissing. “Not like I would expect you to fucking understand! You got none of your own - NOTHING of your own ‘cept your damned pride, which you just sold for booze!”

 

“CINDY.” The black-haired man, Will Vikers, hadn’t moved, his expression hadn’t changed, but the force of his tone made his wife start slightly as realization flashed across her features. It seemed she had her pride as well, going by the mutinous set of her jaw. Zack wondered how long Sephiroth intended to let this little family drama play out. The silver-haired man was watching the trio calmly, eyes curious and assessing. It was the first time he’d seen anyone having a domestic in real life, after all.

 

Zack wondered what Cloud would do if the General ever tried to tell him off - he’d love to have a ringside seat to THAT. The little chocobo may have been sweeter than any dessert the SOLDIER had ever tasted, but the kid clearly didn’t take shit lying down. 

 

 _The only ‘place' you’ll put him in is your bed, Seph_ , he chuckled to himself internally.

 

Highwind was speaking, teeth clenched around the cigarette and fists balled at his sides. “DON’T you ever THINK I don’t care about that boy, Cind. DON’T.” Blue eyes narrowed into slits as the blond pilot spat the cigarette out, turned back to glare daggers at his sister. "He spent more time with me than with the two of you, took care of me all these fucking years, was the only FUCKING person in Town who never blamed me for a FUCKING thing. So DON’T you EVER act like I don’t treat that kid as my own. DON’T fucking EVER do that.”

 

Cindy Highwind clearly wasn’t backing down, squaring thin shoulders under a worn sweater, chin raised in defiance as she opened her mouth to counter-attack. 

 

A calm voice interrupted them, and Zack wondered if he was still asleep on the chopper. Sephiroth was intervening in the family drama. 

 

_Holy fucking hell…_

 

He wished he had a video camera or some way to record this moment for posterity, but his cellphone was locked in his apartment - they hadn’t been allowed to bring personal communications devices on this mission. 

 

“Ralph Vikers is an exceptionally competent cadet, and will doubtless make a fine SOLDIER.” The General had turned slightly towards the trio, but other than that he hadn’t moved from his spot. “We would be proud to have him.” 

 

Zack wondered if any of the other SOLDIERs wanted to pinch themselves as much as he did. Sephiroth was vouching for a cadet, to said cadet’s parents, in order to stop the cadet’s mother from continuing her tirade against her brother. 

 

_What the FUCK?_

 

Had Hell frozen over when he’d been asleep? Had pigs started flying? Was the fat President prancing about in a tutu?

 

The General was continuing, and Zack really wished he had a clear line of sight. He wanted to know what expression the silver-haired man was wearing, wondered if it matched the tone of his voice. 

 

“But more than that - he has become very close to four other exceptional cadets, one of whom he holds in particularly high regard as both his leader and…confidante.” No need to wonder whom Sephiroth was referring to, not with the hint of pride in his words or the way his tone had darkened slightly at that last term. 

 

_Sephiroth with Cloudy sitting on his knee…_

 

Would it be OK for him to start singing that song now?

 

Zack shifted slightly, peering at the dumbstruck faces of the Highwind and Vikers family, saw townspeople gaping open-mouthed. He didn’t blame them - no one outside Shinra had ever interacted with the General unless their necks were at the tip of his Masamune. If SOLDIERs themselves were rendered mute by this behavior, the people's collective minds must have been blown. 

 

Sephiroth was trying to prevent Cloud’s friend from being taken from him.

 

That realization hit Zack like a ton of bricks. It took a second for it to sink in, then he wanted to do the Spazzing Seal. 

 

Whatever the General said from now on, Zack would not forget how the silver-haired man had stepped in to a family dispute to prevent the little blond cadet from losing a friend. 

 

It seemed having the Living Legend himself intervene had cooled the Highwinds’ anger. Cindy Highwind was staring, mouth agape but expression becoming one of pride. Her husband’s face hadn’t changed - Vikers clearly got his level-headedness from his father - but his dark eyes sparkled. 

 

And Highwind…

 

Highwind had a broad smile on his face, eyes both fond and grateful. 

 

Sephiroth had turned towards Zack and was speaking again - expression as impassive as ever - so the SOLDIER stood at attention instinctively though his mind was still in a whirl. “Wheels up in ten.”

 

He nodded, saluted out of habit - they played their roles perfectly in public - turning and issuing commands that were becoming second nature to him.

 

Through it all, he couldn’t calm the jumbled squawking in his head that was at times _oh my God, oh my God, oh my GOD, Seph got into a family drama_ and at times _holy shit someone’s WHIPPED_. It was the only explanation for it, the only logical reason he could think of that would explain why the General - notoriously allergic to drama and getting involved with things that didn’t concern him - had intervened so publicly. 

 

It was making him want to start planning the Wedding of the Century. 

 

As Highwind turned to head to where Zack remembered that plane of his was hidden, his sister stopped him hesitantly, weathered hand that looked older than it should be on a jacket sleeve. She glanced up at her taller sibling, looked at him for a second before a soft “Sorry, little brother” reached his ears. 

 

The pilot stiffened, then Zack heard a cocky voice that was no doubt coming from a broad grin. “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for, Cind.” He placed his hand on top of his sister’s for a brief moment before removing it and turning to go. “Now if you dumbasses don’t mind, I got a plane to fly.”

 

SOLDIERs usually tried not to fly with Highwind, because the man was a drunk who could barely find his own face most times. Members of the elite fighting force always groaned when they heard that they would be transported by the alcoholic, always thanked their lucky stars and praised a God they may not have believed in when they were back on land. But today, for the first time since he’d met the cranky pilot, he wished he was one of his passengers. If you had to be in a tin can up in the air, the only person you wanted in the cockpit was a sober Cid Highwind, the greatest pilot and mechanic the world had ever known.

 

##  

 

**\- Future -**

 

Cid stepped out of the Shera, heard the godawful gangster rap his nephew enjoyed and thought to himself that he’d been right about what the punk would be up to. If Ralph wasn’t away running errands for that mobster friend of his or racing around with Cloud and Jared, he’d be in the garage working on some new toy.

 

At the thought of Cloud, he stilled, cigarette midway to his lips. 

 

All this mind-fucking was going to turn him into Sephiroth eventually. 

 

He shrugged, lighting up and inhaling as he strolled to where the music was coming from. He saw booted feet sticking out from under an Impala, grinned and tried to kick them but they moved away before his boots connected. Kid was still a SOLDIER at heart. 

 

He’d always be grateful to Cloud for bringing the little punk home safe from the War.

 

_What the fucking fuck?_

 

This was that mind-fucking again. Just like the other day when he’d looked up at the Enterprise 2.0 and chuckled to himself at the memory of wasting Shinra’s cash on twenty-five useless, wacky prototypes before they’d put their well-heeled feet down and told him to _get it right or else_. At the time he recalled wondering if Cloud had been psychic - since the brat had told him it’d take him twenty-five tries before he got a working rocket together, and Number 26 had been his answer to the pissed off paper-pushers. 

 

Then he’d looked at his nephew and wondered why he was here, wondered why the kid was talking about making some mods to Fenrir the next time Cloud hit their town on a delivery or a mission. 

 

He’d called Reeve immediately after that, not trusting his memories any longer. He was beginning to understand how Cloud had felt that time they were chasing after Sephiroth.

 

While he didn’t like the fact that things would keep changing - that he’d keep waking up to a world that didn’t make sense - Cid was a pragmatist at heart. There was only logic, only science. Reeve’s explanation made sense, and if there was nothing Cid could do about it anyway, why get his knickers in a twist?

 

So he’d decided while flying home that he’d roll with it. It was the only thing he could do, after all. Just like he’d decided to roll with the fact that his nephew was best buddies with the Godfather, and was joint-consigliere with Jess’ kid. 

 

At the end of the day, Cid knew the boy missed the thrill of battle, just like the rest of the gang. And Ralph was the kind of person who never turned his back on his friends, would do anything for one of Team Fenrir.

 

It helped that that Johnson kid was honorable and kind - he definitely did things he could never talk about in polite company, but Cid had to agree Ralph’s argument made sense: better the devil you knew, than the angel you didn’t. There was order in the Underworld now, structure and rules that kept the streets safe from gang warfare and kids safe from drugs. 

 

A tall, well-built figure was rolling himself out from under the classic car, and then glowing black eyes were smirking up at him. “You wet your drawers or something, old man?”

 

He tried to kick the kid again - for shits and giggles - but the punk would always be a SOLDIER First Class, rolling over and standing well out of Cid’s range in a heartbeat. Grinning, Cid tossed his pack of cigarettes at the boy, watched as the black-haired former SOLDIER lit up, flame casting a glow on handsome features. Just why his stupid nephew wouldn’t settle down with any of the beautiful women who constantly threw themselves at him was beyond Cid. He supposed it was Jess’ kid’s fault somehow, but he couldn’t really bring himself to mind. 

 

He was just glad to have his nephew here. He had Cloud to thank for that. Had Cloud to thank for helping him find a new lease on life when he’d been feeling absolutely defeated.

 

The disoriented feeling was back - he knew that he’d only met Cloud when the spiky-haired punk had been running around trying to save the world, but at the same time he knew he’d met him when the blond numbskull had been a cadet. Had he first met Cloud when the dumbass had been a teenager, or a man fucked in the head?

 

_Fuck it._

 

He was just glad he’d been able to meet his friend back in the past - whichever it was. 

 

He heard the sound of Ralph's phone ringing, saw his nephew tap the earpiece he always wore and grin. It was definitely one of his buddies from Team Fenrir calling - Ralph was never that happy to receive phone calls. 

 

“Yo."

 

Cid leaned against the Impala’s hood, saw Ralph give him a quick look of warning - the kid was _way_ too protective over the decrepit wreck that Cloud and Jared had dug up down south;  _Cid_ had taught him how to find his way around a car after all - before the punk wandered over to a toolbox on the step-ladder to grab a rag and wipe the grease off his hands, all the while chatting with whoever it was.

 

“Yup, uh-huh.” The black-haired man grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge, uncapping it and taking a swig while tossing the cap perfectly into the bin behind him without looking. 

 

 _Fucking showboat_.

 

“Yeah, you got it. No biggie.” Seemed the kid had to head off on another errand, judging by the fact that he was grabbing his go-bag from under his workbench. 

 

“Aight, I’m on it. Yeah, man.” A laugh. “No shit? How’s that street rat doin’?”

 

Another laugh, then the line Cid was beginning to hear a lot of and had already heard too much of: “Team Fenrir for life.”

 

Ralph turned back towards Cid, tapping his earpiece again - the call was over - and walking towards the garage doors. “I gotta bounce, old man. Aunt Shera said she’s making that pot roast you like. Not sure when I’ll be back, DON’T touch my car.” 

 

Cid rolled his eyes, smirked and waved him off. “No promises, punk.”

 

The black-haired man grinned, tossing his unfinished beer at Cid casually and sauntering off. Straddling his bike - not as powerful as Fenrir but still a Beast on Wheels - he slipped his shades on, gave his uncle a mock salute, then Cid was staring at the dust and wondering where the hell the remote control was. Numbskull might have been one of the most sought after men in the world, but he had crap taste in music. 

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 0320 hours. -**

 

Sephiroth felt the familiar thrum in his veins as the plane approached Wutai, let himself fall into the familiar arms of battle haze. 

 

It was better than thinking about what a fool he’d made of himself in Rocket Town, which was still better than thinking about his motivations behind it. 

 

A pretty face with bright blue eyes popped into his mind again, and he wanted to groan. 

 

_Focus!_

 

He pushed all thoughts of the beautiful cadet away, let everything else fall away, until all that remained was the mission. 

 

It put the ‘Suicide' in Suicidal, but he had his reasons. And it had nothing to do with the fact that an entrancing blond had sat next to him late into the night on Saturday, or the fact that he’d almost kissed the boy. 

 

_Masamune help me._

 

Did everything have to come back to Cloud?  

 

Highwind’s voice, raised though it was in order to be heard over the sounds of the engine, was still faint - almost drowned out, but Sephiroth was genetically-enhanced and could hear a heartbeat a mile away when he paid attention.

 

They were thirty seconds from Wutai. Already he could hear the sounds of anti-aircraft weapons being deployed, then the plane dipped and Highwind was plowing the road - firing wildly as he swooped in low. Highwind was the only pilot crazy enough to fly SOLDIERs directly into enemy territory. Sephiroth hadn’t been counting on the man being sober, but he was glad for it - it meant a higher chance of success, a higher chance of making it back to Midgar alive. 

 

He could see the flames flying past the windows of the Bronco, felt Highwind engage evasive manoeuvres, then he heard the sounds of explosions. 

 

Zack’s team was in position.

 

Out the grimy window, he could see Wutaians scattering - their warriors getting into position, civilians running for the reinforced Shelters that Shinra’s spies hadn’t been able to pinpoint. 

 

Highwind was yelling at them, so Sephiroth and his team got into position, their enhancements and years of training the only thing allowing them to keep themselves steady through the wild flight. They would be jumping from the plane onto the Pagoda once Highwind turned the plane around and flew back over Wutai on his way out of the war zone. 

 

He glanced at his men, received their nods of confirmation, then he gripped the door handle and waited. The plane rose, turning sharply before diving back down, and Sephiroth flung the door open, counted to three before he jumped. 

 

They landed perfectly on the roof of the Pagoda as Highwind laid cover fire - distracting the Wutaians while blocking the view of seven SOLDIERs perched on the top of their holy building. It was a moonless night - part of the reason why Sephiroth had chosen this timing for the mission - but it helped to be cautious. 

 

He signalled his men, then they were off - each of them dropping silently from roof to roof until they were on the ground, dispersing immediately like shadows in the night. He glanced at the South Gate, saw that Zack’s regiment of 12 Firsts, 24 Seconds, 36 Thirds and 200 regular grunts was doing a good job keeping the Wutaians busy, then he was off hunting for the armory, water supply, food stores, and the blacksmiths and weapons makers. If time allowed, he’d look for Godo as well to try to end this War once and for all, though he wasn’t counting on the Lord of Wutai being foolish enough to make himself available.

 

He hoped the men with him - their small infiltration team of Sephiroth, 2 Firsts and 4 Seconds - would make it through. They were giving themselves three days to fulfil their mission - three days in the very heart of enemy territory, relying on Zack’s team to keep the Wutaians busy long enough or successfully breach the South Gate and cause enough of a ruckus - before Highwind would fly back over the independent city state with ropes suspended for Sephiroth and his team to grab on to. The cranky pilot would need to lay cover fire again while both teams were extracted - Zack's via choppers that would be retrofitted in Rocket Town with blinding lights to disorient Wutaians while their gunners covered them. 

 

Sephiroth didn’t believe in God, but he hoped they’d all make it through somehow. It was the first time he’d ever wanted to return to Midgar so badly.

 

He pushed the reason out of his mind, focused on just surviving until Sunday morning and doing enough damage to Wutai to buy themselves enough time to deal with Genesis and AVALANCHE without the threat of the proud city’s brilliant warriors and ninjas hanging over them. AVALANCHE had been silent too long - which meant whatever they were planning would be devastating - and the terrorists’ objectives were somewhat aligned with Wutai such that Sephiroth wouldn’t put it past them to strike in tandem, even though Wutai’s pride might prohibit working with terrorists that lacked any honor or compassion. He couldn’t afford to take the chance - if a joint attack happened in any of the towns or cities under Shinra’s control, it would be devastating to the innocent civilians who would be caught in the crossfire. Better to launch a surprise attack on Wutai - the only fixed target they had - instead of waiting around for whatever it was Wutai and AVALANCHE had planned. A sudden strike by SOLDIER, with enough damage dealt, would throw off Wutai’s plans and mess with any intended sync with AVALANCHE, he’d reasoned. 

 

Genesis was the wild card - the man’s plans as murky and elusive as Hojo’s conscience. SOLDIER was being pulled in too many directions right now - too many enemies to fight - so they had to find a way to take each opponent on while keeping themselves covered against whoever would strike next, and if they could break or forestall any cooperation or partnerships between their enemies then that was a plus. 

 

He knew he was violating their Continuity Protocols - that on such a dangerous mission either himself or Zack should be staying back in Midgar in case the other fell. But Zack was the only one he truly trusted to have his back and get things done, the only person in the world with such unparalleled courage and loyalty and tenacity that he’d take on all of Wutai himself in order to save Sephiroth. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his Firsts - he knew they would die for him in a heartbeat - but Zack was a brilliant commander in his own right, a dangerous adversary, the quintessential wolf in sheep’s clothing. Who better to have at his back than a man whose name struck almost the same fear in the hearts of their enemies as Sephiroth’s did?

 

He didn’t believe in things like fairytales and hocus-pocus, but a small part of him also hadn’t wanted to observe Continuity Protocols because it felt a little like he was dooming the mission before it’d even began. It was a silly notion, one he didn’t want to pay any attention to, but there had been a nagging feeling in the back of his mind when he’d considered asking Zack to stay behind, vague tendrils of thought that had whispered of failure if it wasn’t the two of them leading their respective teams through these insane 76 hours.  

 

_Just three days._

 

They only had to make it through three days against a city-full of highly-skilled fighters defending their home. It truly was a Suicide Mission - attempting to strike at Wutai with such a small contingent was sheer insanity - but it was also completely unexpected and therefore had potential to succeed. 

 

 _This is either genius, or madness_ , Zack had told him when he’d heard the plan.

 

 _It’s remarkable how often those two traits coincide_ , Sephiroth had responded. They didn’t have time to mobilize a large force, not when they’d heard rumors that Wutai was planning something huge right in the heart of Midgar, and they needed to strike first. It also didn’t help that Wutai had its spies within Shinra, would hear about their plans quicker if they involved more grunts, so they'd had to make do with whatever the regulation army could spare in Junon and Del Sol, not trusting someone in Midgar not to hear about it and alert Wutai if they deployed the army based in Shinra’s home city. 

 

It never hurt to be cautious. Especially when so much was at stake. 

 

_The best defense is a good offense._

 

And Sephiroth had something very important to defend in Midgar. 

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 0940 hours. -**

 

Cloud pushed his hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time that morning, cursing slightly as the move blocked his vision enough that Reno’s “sword” came within an inch of his face. He’d refused Jared’s offer of a hairband, but he’d possibly need to get either a hair cut or some sort of hair tie this weekend. 

 

The memory of a bright yellow hair tie on silver hair made him stumble slightly as he stepped back to avoid the blow, and he cursed again under his breath. 

 

_Focus!_

 

It didn’t help that ever since Zack had left on his mission, Cloud had been unable to sleep well - wondering where his friend was, if he was alright, if he was lying somewhere hurt and bleeding while his life seeped out of his broken body. 

 

_Stop it!_

 

It also hadn’t helped that Cid’s visit had resulted in some very painful reveals about his old friend and his new friends. Thinking back to that night when they’d had their little “campfire”, Cloud wanted to kick himself for not realizing it sooner. He’d written Jared off as just another hormonal teenager and their resident nympho, when his friend’s hypersexualized behavior should have been enough of a warning bell. 

 

That, coupled with his street smarts (Cloud recalled Jared coming between Ralph and a pickpocket in the slums weeks ago) and the fact that the other blond had never revealed anything about his past beyond his motorcross experience, should have been enough of a sign that his friend was hiding something painful. 

 

But no, Cloud hadn’t noticed, because he only cared about himself.

 

 _Selfish little brat_.

 

He winced slightly, didn’t miss the way Reno looked at him in concern before Cloud’s minute head shake told the redhead it was nothing he’d done. 

 

“Careful with that big, bad stick of yours, Reno.” Jared was back to his usual innuendo-filled self, winking at them while holding Brian off easily. Cloud knew the taller blond was playing it cool, pretending he hadn’t broken down in front of his friends and laid himself bare, but he also knew the rest of their bunker had figured out that something was up. 

 

It was testament to the respect they had among the cadets that no one had asked any questions. Though it was highly likely that even if questions _were_ being asked, Cloud would be the last to hear about it. He’d always been the most obtuse of the lot. 

 

The boys had teased him mercilessly about that night at Zack’s every chance they’d gotten, had laughed at him for not being prepared for Sephiroth to be there. 

 

 _Forget what I said, you ARE a natural blond_ , Ralph had snickered. 

 

 _Told you he likes you_ , Ray had smirked.

 

 _You’re making the rest of us look bad_ , Jared had mock-whined. 

 

Reno had told him not to say yes to anything less than ten carats. He’d wanted to kick them all.

 

Well, they _were_ in Sword Training…

 

He took the offensive, forcing Reno back and trying to focus on his moves instead of on a certain silver-haired man. He wondered if Sephiroth was on the same mission as Zack.

 

_Zack._

 

He’d really been looking forward to introducing Zack and Aeris this weekend, hoping to be able to do something good for once in his life. But the fact remained that they were in the middle of a War, and SOLDIERs couldn’t get comfortable. He’d gotten so used to having Zack around, to being able to see the black-haired man four times a week in private training or in his home, he’d been letting himself believe that their little world was all hunky-dory. 

 

He couldn’t afford to get complacent. They had ten weeks till the exams, and Nibelheim was less than seven months away.

 

He had to make this right. He’d focus on his impossible dreams after, he told himself. Defeat the dragon, _then_ kiss Prince Charming.

 

"If you say so, princess.” 

 

Cloud snapped his head up, flushing when he realized he’d said the last part of his thoughts aloud and Reno had responded cheekily. The others were laughing, though they sobered when Mendez shot them a look from the other side of the hall. 

 

They settled on a safe topic - Battle Sims this week - but Cloud knew the conversation wasn’t over. He wasn’t looking forward to lunch, or any of the time he spent around the monkeys he called friends. 

 

_Who do you think you’re kidding?_

 

He shoved the voice out of his mind, focused on the speculation around him. Would they be put in another SOLDIER arena this week? Ray didn’t seem to think so, the brunette confident that it’d be a regular cadet arena, but he wouldn’t reveal his reasoning. Jared and Ralph had taken the Junon cadet’s words as gospel, though Cloud wasn’t sure why. Reno had given Ray a look but said nothing about it, merely smirking and wondering how badly they’d whup the other teams’ asses this time. 

 

Cloud had been looking forward to a difficult Battle Sims to take his mind off Sephiroth and Zack, and all the things that had happened in the future. If he recalled correctly, cadet arenas were ridiculously simple and the tasks mind-numbingly boring. 

 

_Well look at you, thinking you’re all that._

 

His negativity was back to vilify him. He wondered if there’d ever be a day when he would stop feeling this way - always second-guessing himself, doubting his own abilities, feeling like he didn’t deserve a single second of happiness. 

 

_Who knows, not me. We never lost control._

 

He tried to focus on the chatter going on around him, on the trash-talking between teams at lunch, but he couldn’t quite push away the thoughts of Zack dying, the memory of Sephiroth going mad, or the voice that whispered that he’d just have to go through everything again because he hadn’t been there when it mattered. 

 

By the time the runner came by in Basics of IED, Cloud was wound tighter than a coiled spring. No matter how many times he tried to reassure himself that Zack was fine, that Sephiroth was sane, that Nibelheim was months away, Aeris’ words that his return had changed things kept coming back to haunt him, kept feeding the ‘what if’s and the voices that threatened to tear him to pieces. The confirmation that they were having Battle Sims in one of the cadet arenas didn’t help - both because the task would be too easy to keep him occupied, and because the voices were taunting him with the fact that he wasn’t that special, that he didn’t matter to Sephiroth anymore ever since he’d thrown himself on the man’s lap and tried to kiss him.

 

He told the others to head on to dinner without him, dashing to the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face in the hopes that he’d shock himself back to his senses. He couldn’t afford to break, couldn’t afford to lose control now, not when he had to focus on the exams and on making it into SOLDIER in order to stop everything from ever happening.

 

And yet, no matter how many times he slapped cool fluid on his face, no matter how hard he tried, when he looked in the mirror all he saw was the face of a fraud, an almost-person who’d caused the deaths of two beautiful souls, the wannabe who’d killed the man he loved twice. 

 

_The man who sold the world._

 

Hysterical laughter bubbled within him, and he realized he’d tried to punch the mirror when a hand came in between his fist and the reflection, while arms wrapped around his waist and neck. Blinking, he was stunned when he saw that Reno had managed to catch his fist in time, that Jared had wrapped around Cloud from behind while Ray and Ralph were holding onto his neck and his other arm. Cloud wanted to sink into a deep, dark hole right then. He was supposed to be strong and tough, the one they called ‘Boss’ so affectionately, and yet here he was losing it completely in a dimly lit bathroom.

 

They released him when they noticed that he’d come back to his senses, and Cloud spotted Brian lingering in the doorway looking worried and nervous. 

 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid…_

 

He took a breath, tried to give the light-brown haired cadet a reassuring smile but knew it’d failed when Brian just frowned.

 

“This about that SOLDIER cat going off on a mission?” Reno was leaning against the sink, body-language deceptively languid but clear blue eyes sharp. 

 

Cloud wasn’t sure he wanted to respond, didn’t want to seem like the kind of idiot who freaked out so badly every time someone went on a mission, but he also didn’t know how to explain his behavior - didn’t want to go into the details, the reasons behind why he took everything so seriously. He kept silent, face flushed as he looked down at where he was still dripping water into the sink.

 

“You won’t always be there, Cloud.” It was Ray this time, and Cloud turned at the tone of his voice - deeper, heavier, darker than what he was familiar with. The look in stormy silver eyes told him all he needed to know. 

 

He wasn’t the only one who had lost, the only one who was afraid to lose the people he cared about. 

 

_Anyone with half a brain, and who wasn’t so damned full of himself, would’ve realized that._

 

He tried to turn away at the proof of his self-centeredness, the knowledge that he only gave a damn about himself and no one else, but Ray caught his jaw in a strong grip and was staring into his eyes with a fierce, almost desperate silver gaze.

 

“It’s perfectly human to care and to be afraid for the ones we care about.” The brunette’s voice was as soft and as calm as always, yet his words resounded in Cloud’s head. “But just as we care about others and worry about them, remember that there are those who care and worry about us too.”

 

Jared was squeezing him tight from behind again, face buried in the crook of Cloud’s neck. Ralph was mussing his hair the way Zack usually did, while Reno was tapping his palm lightly against the blond’s forearm as it braced Cloud against the sink.

 

“Everything alright, boss?” Grant’s sudden rumble made Cloud jump slightly, and he was gratified to hear Brian’s squeak of surprise. The others had released him again as soon as the Corelian had spoken, and Cloud was turning towards the giant and the Kalm cadet, flush fading though his heart still raced - although for a different reason than before.

 

He caught a glimpse of the other four in the mirror, eyes concerned and expressions tight, saw himself standing in the middle of his reflection and his friends.

 

“Everything’s OK.” 

 

It was taking him a while, and he’d probably need regular reminders, but times like these he felt like he truly wasn't alone anymore. 

 

##

 

**\- Friday. 0700. -**

 

Ralph, Jared and Reno were up to no good as usual, taunting the other teams and making bets on how badly Team Fenrir would kick their asses. Inwardly, Ray was amused at how energetic the Three Stooges were so early in the morning - it appeared they were getting used to the early wake-up calls for Crazy Bastards Training.

 

He glanced at Cloud, seated on his left between him and the wall as usual, noticed how the blond was looking slightly better today though he kept having to push his bangs out of his face to prevent himself from chewing on long strands. Maybe they should all head to Vidal’s this weekend.

 

Thinking back to Cloudy’s little ‘moment’ yesterday, he wanted to kick himself for not doing something sooner. They all knew the little blond was the sweetest of the lot, that he felt responsible for things that were beyond his control, that hearing Ralph’s and Jared’s stories would make him feel like he should have noticed earlier, done something sooner. They’d known as soon as the SOLDIER had left for his mission Tuesday night that Cloud would start to worry, start to torment himself with thoughts of the black-haired man’s death, start to blame himself for not being there to help. And yet, they hadn’t addressed it - had focused on Jared and Ralph (though Ray knew that at the time that those two were the urgent cases), had been so emotionally exhausted after that they’d all gone to bed immediately. 

 

Cloud had seemed fine on Wednesday, so they’d figured they had until the weekend - some private place to address the little blond’s strife (pun intended). But the Nibelheim cadet’s ‘condition’ had degenerated quickly on Thursday, so they’d slipped away from the others and rushed to the bathroom only to find a twisted version of Cloud in the mirror, about to smash himself to pieces. 

 

He wondered what Cloud’s story was - why the sudden 180, why the deep-rooted pain and loneliness and fear - but he didn’t want to push the other boy. The blond could barely express himself most days, they couldn’t expect him to be able to talk about what it was that ate at him from within just because they asked.

 

Cloud needed time, needed to approach whatever it was on his own, approach them on his own. 

 

Ray didn’t want to see that version of his friend again - eyes howling in pain and guilt and grief, face contorted in impotent rage and hatred. 

 

Something terrible had happened to the other boy before, he knew. Something almost unspeakable in its horror. The kid had probably attempted to bury it deep inside, had overcompensated by trying to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, but something had happened and the guard had slipped, revealing a Cloud who was smarter and tougher than all of them, yet at the same time infinitely more fragile and broken. 

 

It didn’t quite make perfect sense, but that was the best he had to go on until Cloud told him the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth.

 

Beside him, baby blue eyes were rising to meet his scrutiny, expression guarded but trusting in the way Cloud usually looked at them when he tried to hide things. Ray smiled, decided to take it easy on the other boy - it was Friday, after all - and nudged him. “So we’ll end the Sims in five minutes, right?”

 

Cloud’s eyes widened slightly, realization flashing, before he rolled them and gave Ray a small smile. It was better than the frown he’d worn last night when he’d read the mission objectives, but still a far cry from the smile the blond had had in his eyes the previous two Battle Sims mornings. 

 

Ray had been looking forward to another go in SOLDIER arenas too - the cadet ones were far too simplistic - but as soon as he’d gotten word that the General was away on the same mission as his second-in-command, he’d known they wouldn’t be receiving any special treatment this week. It wasn’t only because the two older men were partial to Cloud, he knew. Now that the cadet arenas were fixed, without them present to observe the future batch of SOLDIERs there was no way the cadets could use the SOLDIER arenas without it raising red flags across Shinra. And Ray knew that the General and the Brigadier General were trying to keep their interest in a certain cadet on the down low, away from prying eyes and vicious talons. 

 

His men hadn’t been able to obtain all the details about the mission until yesterday, when one of the Thirds they’d turned had finally been able to find out about what was going on. As soon as Ray heard it, he’d been both concerned and impressed. 

 

It truly was a Suicide Mission. But at the same time, it was almost genius in its desperate directness - striking right at the heart of their enemies with a small force providing them the element of surprise, and keeping the Wutaians guessing because surely the General - the most brilliant man in the world - wouldn’t send such a small contingent charging at Wutai’s door (literally) without some sort of backup plan or alternate manoeuvre that would deal catastrophic damage to the proud city-state. 

 

He wondered what it was that had driven the General to such a move. The silver-haired man didn’t seem the type to casually throw the lives of his men away on a fool’s errand, hadn’t departed on a mission himself in a while, so something must have happened to make him want to grab the bull by the horns. 

 

He wondered if it could truly be chalked entirely up to a certain pretty little cadet. It wasn’t impossible - wars had been fought time and time again for women, in the name of love and pride and lust. Yet somehow Ray got the feeling it wasn’t entirely the desire to protect Cloud that had made the General decide to do this. No, it had to be something more - possibly the combined effects of all the deaths of his men at the hands of Wutai, Genesis and AVALANCHE - that had coupled with his desire to end the War and driven him to this latest act of violence against SOLDIER's oldest enemy. The General was intelligent, Ray knew. But Ray also knew that intelligence was a double-edged sword - that it could rationalize all your actions and decisions, justify them to feed an inner unconscious need, drive the smartest of men to the stupidest of moves. 

 

His father had told him so since young, had warned him to always be on guard against himself, to always question every assumption he made to prevent himself from ever falling victim to prejudice.

 

He wasn’t perfect, he knew. But that was why they made decisions in a team, together - the Family had its Consigliere and capos, Team Fenrir had ten members. Even though decisions were usually made by only four of them - Cloud, Ray, Reno and Ralph - but at least they had each other. 

 

Though the General clearly trusted his second-in-command, the silver-haired man still tried to do everything himself, carry the weight of the world on his own. As long as he kept making the right decisions, it was fine. But what would happen if one day he made the wrong decision, jumped to the wrong conclusion then justified it to himself?

 

The world would burn.

 

He was pulled from his musings when Cloud and the others snapped to attention, scrambling to their feet and saluting as their instructors entered the hall to distribute DD packs. He stood too, saluted and sat only when they were ordered to do so, watched as the DD form was handed to Cloud and the blond started to fill in the silly piece of paper. 

 

Once completed, they stood, clearing their trays and filing out to the cadet arena, steps less bouncy and energy levels lower since it seemed like a demotion of sorts. Which was silly, considering they’d only actually been allowed to use the SOLDIER arenas the first time because their own were being fixed, and the second time because the General had opted to allow his Thirds a chance at retribution while the silver-haired man sought another opportunity to observe the future SOLDIERs. 

 

No one else knew that the General was away on a mission yet, unless they had their sources within Shinra too. It was uncommon for a SOLDIER to reveal to a cadet or a member of the public that he was leaving on a mission, unless that person was a close family member. Yet the Brigadier General had broken with tradition and told Cloud the truth, though the man had left out the details. It was testament to how important the little blond was to the First, and Ray hoped Cloud had realized it. If he hadn’t, Ray and the others would need to shake his spiky head hard and knock some sense into him somehow. 

 

They lined up single file before the doors, listened to the disembodied voice counting down. All the while Cloud kept his face impassive - it was up to them to cheer him up somehow, and what better way than with their usual antics in Battle Sims?

 

Ray glanced at Ralph, the other boy nodding, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Reno and Jared shift slightly. Then the doors opened and they got into the little boats they had to row around obstacles and against “currents” generated by underwater motors towards the little island in the center while fending off other cadets. 

 

Honestly, the only challenge was figuring out which way the current was flowing. And dodging “bullets” from other teams.

 

As soon as they were in the boat, Grant’s Hulk-like arms propelling them through the water, Ralph and Jared started to put their plan into action.

 

"There’s no earthly way of knowing, which direction we are going,” Ralph started to sing, shaking his hips in order to rock the boat because the black-haired boy liked living life on the edge.

 

Jared joined in, voice in falsetto: "There’s no knowing where we’re rowing, or which way the river’s flowing.”

 

Ray supposed it was only natural for the Wonky Genius Society to have an anthem.

 

Reno had joined in, shaking the boat even more and waving his oar about like a giant magic wand: “Is it raining, is it snowing?”

 

“Is a hurricane a-blowing?” Well, that was unexpected. Grant had joined in with his rather melodious rumble. In front of them, Cloud had turned around to gape, struggling to keep his balance on a madly rocking boat. 

 

A shot that almost took a helmet off a blond head reminded them that they were playing battle games. Ray figured it was time for a change in soundtrack as Cloud and the rest started firing back while Grant focused on propelling them through the water, the boat changing directions madly with the random currents. He grinned - he’d always liked this song. Lifting his oar out of the water, he started beating out a tune against the side of the boat. Ralph caught on quickly, the black-haired boy singing the infamous guitar riffs as Ray switched to playing the drums and Jared and Reno joined in their impromptu sing-a-long boyband. 

 

"Load up on guns,” Ralph sang.

 

"Bring your friends,” Jared joined in. 

 

"It's fun to lose and to pretend.” That had all of them stopping temporarily to stare in shock at Brian, no one having expected the Kalm cadet to know the lyrics to a Nirvana classic. 

 

"She's overboard, self assured,” Cloud was singing softly in front, as he fired two shots that neatly knocked another cadet off his boat and into the water. 

 

_Holy…_

 

No one had ever heard Cloud sing before. The blond was actually pretty good.

 

Ray shrugged, getting back to business. "Oh no I know, a dirty word.” 

 

As they sang the "Hello, hello, hello, how low” lines, Jeffries’ voice came through the speakers informing them that the lights would be turned off. The mission brief had told them about this - an attempt by the instructors to try to make the cadet arena more challenging, no doubt - so cadets were prepared to use the glowsticks and flares in their packs.

 

_Here it comes…_

 

Ralph had stood up and was yelling the next part while flinging a flare to his right, taking out every cadet lit by the fizzling stick with perfect headshots: "With the lights out, it's less dangerous!”

 

"Here we are now, entertain us!” Jared was standing as well, tossing a flare to their left to allow them a clear view of enemy cadets who panicked and were easy targets for Team Fenrir. 

 

They kept going, Ray wondering if Cloud even knew which way the little island was anymore given how much they’d spun round and round in the currents, everyone ducking and firing at other cadets who had foolishly activated their glowsticks and flares in order to be able to light their way. 

 

“Our little group has always been, and always will until the end.” A chorus of ten voices sang loudly and proudly as Grant rowed them slightly to port per Cloud’s instructions. Within seconds, they felt the boat run up against land, then Cloud and Reno leapt off while the rest kept them covered. It wasn’t long before Jeffries’ voice boomed through the speakers again: “Attention all cadets: the Simulation has ended. Team Fenrir has once again won while setting a new record for the arena of seven minutes and twenty-two seconds. All cadets are to report back to the mess hall for debrief.” Jeffries needed to quit the Proud Papa act.

 

The lights came back on as Team Fenrir cheered and whupped, while other cadets yelled at them for ending the Sim way too soon. Ray grinned to himself.

 

_Sorry, guys. We’re just that good._

 

With Cloud as their boss, there wasn’t anything Team Fenrir couldn’t do. 

 

He chanced a look at the little blond, saw the other kid was smiling slightly as Reno jumped up and down with an arm around the smaller cadet’s shoulders.

 

_TGIF._

 

##

 

**\- Friday. 2100 hours. -**

 

Reno accepted the drink Ray held out to him, taking a gulp of one of the odd mixes they were trying from this random hole-in-the-wall they’d stumbled upon. After all the reveals and emotional moments this week, they’d opted to bar hop through the slums, though their large group couldn’t fit well into every bar, which was why Reno was sitting on yet another upturned crate outside the latest establishment. Cloud was sitting on part of a ledge, his feet barely touching the ground, and Reno wanted to chuckle at the way the blond cadet brushed his hair out of his face impatiently every few seconds. 

 

Ray had suggested they get haircuts earlier, but Cloud had demurred, saying his hair wasn’t that long yet and he could wait a while more. Reno wondered again at the blond’s desire to keep his face hidden behind overgrown bangs. 

 

_Why you hidin’ that pretty face?_

 

Cloud glanced at him, eyebrow raised, and Reno just grinned, clinking their glasses together and taking another gulp of whatever it was Ray had gotten him. It tasted good, felt good going down, so he leaned back and let out a pleased sigh then took a puff of his cigarette. It’d been a long week - what with meeting Ralph’s uncle, hearing more about Ralph, hearing Jared’s story, seeing Cloud go batshit in the bathroom…

 

He’d been craving a drink and a smoke since Tuesday. All this Keeping Up With The Kardashians shit was too much drama for his liking.

 

He wondered if this was going to become a habit. Last week it’d been that Scarlet bitch who’d fucked with Ralph’s head, then there was the session at the black-haired SOLDIER’s and watching Cloud and the General try to pretend they didn’t want to just jump each other then and there. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about Cloud hooking up with the silver-haired man - on the one hand it really wasn’t his business who the blond decided to get it on with, but on the other hand it was. They were friends, after all. 

 

It wasn’t that he wanted Cloud for himself, Reno knew. He wasn’t about to get that emotionally attached to anyone - bad enough he was caring way too much about the rest of their little gang already. Cloud was obviously crazy about the General (Reno didn’t blame him for that - the man was always magnificent, even dressed casually and watching some silly TV series while eating more Wutaian than Reno had thought humanly possible), and it seemed the feeling was mutual. It was just that something seemed _off_ about the silver-haired man. Reno had heard that he’d been raised in the Shinra labs, had been trained to be a God of War all his life, which meant the SOLDIER really wasn’t a normal 25 year old. His blond friend was screwy enough in the head - put two whackjobs together and you’d end up with Pumpkin and Honey Bunny, or Doll Face and Puddin’. 

 

He wasn’t sure why it bothered him that his Nibelheim friend was keen on someone who was possibly as messed up as he was. It was fun teasing the other boy, to be sure, since Cloud blushed so easily. And the blond did look like he belonged perfectly with the General - the two of them somehow suiting each other in a way Reno couldn’t quite explain. But at the same time...

 

_Fuck it. TGIF motherfuckers._

 

Ralph had ordered some weird blue shots and was handing them out - Reno downed the glass, winced at the tanginess and chased it with the remains of the drink Ray had given him. He was looking forward to a nice drama-free weekend, and hopefully several weeks without any more big reveals. There was only so much he could deal with, after all. 

 

They were done with this bar, and heading off to the next further down the alley. Reno wondered how they’d manage to get themselves back to the bunker if they kept this up. Somehow it felt like their usual weekend pursuits were off the table, all of them still feeling a little too raw from the week and Cloud clearly still hung up on the black-haired First’s absence, and spending so much time with the General last Saturday. 

 

He was right - they stumbled back to the bunker around two in the morning, Grant supporting Brian as usual because the others were too unsteady on their feet to help anyone else. Cloud was half-leaning on Reno as the redhead struggled to remain upright, alcohol making him want to just lie down and sleep right then and there. The little blond fell asleep as soon as his head hit the cheap pillow, and somehow Reno found the strength to yank sneakers off and tuck the smaller boy into bed properly. He was becoming way too motherly. 

 

_Just call me Big Momma._

 

Somehow that was absolutely hilarious, so he toasted to it with Ray and Ralph on the floor of the bunker as Cloud slept with a small frown on his face next to them. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 1540 hours. -**

 

Cloud wanted to groan as the headache continued its assault while they wandered around Wall Market aimlessly. He hadn’t wanted to pop any of the aspirin Ray had been distributing like Santa Claus, but if this kept up he might just down the entire bottle.

 

Jared had pranced off towards a random stall that appeared to sell jewelry, so Cloud wandered over because he didn’t want to think about anything right now. He’d had horrible dreams last night - memories of Zack and Aeris dying and Sephiroth going mad, only this time they all stared at him with betrayal on their faces and asked him over and over “Why weren’t you there, Cloud? We needed you and you weren’t there.”

 

It had hurt, had sent him jolting upright in bed at dawn and rushing to the bathroom to throw up. He’d stumbled back to bed after, wishing desperately for sleep to rescue him from his pounding head but at the same time afraid to fall into the nightmares because the devil never sleeps. 

 

He’d slept in the end, waking up to Reno shaking his shoulder and hoarsely telling him it was past lunch and they were hungry so would Sleeping Beauty _please get the fuck out of bed NOW_.

 

Jared was giggling and purchasing something - or more like Ray was paying for it while the blond cadet gave him a sloppy kiss - and suddenly Cloud was presented with an obnoxious glittering silver hair-tie that had a little heart-shaped charm sparkling up at him. The others were grinning, telling him to put it on, and he would have refused if it wasn’t for the fact that his hair really _was_ getting too long and he didn’t feel like putting up a fight right now. Jared was using a neon pink band to hold his own hair back, winking that it was the only color worthy of a princess. Cloud wondered why Ralph and the others had managed to get away with plain black hair ties when he had to wear one that reminded him so much of Sephiroth’s hair.

 

The color of the hair tie the silver-haired man seemed to prefer was remarkably similar in shade to Cloud’s own spikes. 

 

_It’s probably just a coincidence or some random prank by Zack._

 

He didn’t want to think about his black-haired friend now. The headache was barely keeping the worry and dark thoughts at bay with its pounding.

 

They settled in to a bar soon, nobody wanting to walk around more through the hangovers and Ralph saying something about a hair of the dog, whatever that meant. Cloud wanted to groan when the alcohol was shoved into his hand. He hadn’t come back to the past to give himself liver failure. 

 

_You only live twice._

 

That was true. After all, he was Strife, Cloud Strife.

 

##

 

**\- Sunday. 0600 hours. -**

 

Sephiroth ducked under a bridge, removing a ration from his pack and forcing himself not to focus on the lack of taste in the nutrient-filled meal and its edible packaging. They were fortunate that scientists could be useful at times - the delayed-release caffeine and epinephrine contained in each bar the only thing allowing SOLDIERs to continue functioning at peak performance without any sleep while on missions such as this. They were fortunate their Mako-enhancements meant they wouldn’t “crash” when they finally stopped relying on chemicals to sustain them.

 

He’d barely swallowed the last bite of his ration when he heard someone approach, dodging out of the way in time to avoid the gunshots.

 

_Bullets for breakfast._

 

He took the head off the Wutaian firing at where he’d been easily before running into a nearby alley and scaling the side of the building. More Wutaians were coming, drawn to the sounds of gunfire - odd for a Wutaian to use a gun, he thought - so he hid behind the top ridge of the roof, peering over to watch the newly-arriving group turn the dead man’s head over before focusing in order to better hear their words.

 

It seemed whoever it had been wasn’t one of theirs. He’d need to get a closer look at the head, but this group was taking it with them to their commander. 

 

Excellent - he only had to follow them to find Godo’s right-hand man. With any luck, Godo himself would be there too.

 

Sephiroth leapt onto the neighboring roof soundlessly, moving silently while crouching as he kept the group of Wutaians in his sights. He wondered who it was that had infiltrated Wutai as well, was wearing a Wutaian uniform but using a cheap automatic weapon that could be easily purchased anywhere in the world. Was it AVALANCHE? One of Genesis’ clones? Someone else who’d snuck into Wutai for whatever reason?

 

He needed more information, so he crept from roof to roof while following the group of Wutaians. He needn’t have been so silent - Zack’s team had started their shelling of the South Gate again, and Sephiroth wondered how many had fallen so far, how many more were still alive.

 

He wondered if Zack was alright.

 

They only had another hour before Highwind would fly back over Wutai to extract Sephiroth and his team - assuming they’d survived - while choppers extracted Zack and the team outside the walls. 

 

Just sixty more minutes and they’d be flying to Rocket Town to refuel before heading to Del Sol, then Junon. And after that: Midgar. 

 

A pretty young face, flushed with pleasure, bright blue eyes staring up at him, flashed through his mind and he almost stumbled as he landed on the ground. He shoved the image out of his head - he’d had to leap off the roof when the Wutaians turned a corner that took them near the Walls - had Sephiroth remained on the roofs, he’d have been easily spotted by any of the sentries and soldiers running along the walls carrying weapons or bodies. Now though, he had to follow the Wutaian team through a maze of narrow alleys flanked on both sides by houses and shops. If one door opened while he was in the middle of the alley, he’d be spotted and his cover blown. Thus far, no one who’d seen him had lived to warn the rest of Wutai. They needed Wutai to be on their guard - the city’s spies had definitely determined that Sephiroth was away on a mission, possibly the same mission as Zack, but if no one knew exactly where he was or what he was up to, then Wutai would hesitate to use their full force against Zack on the off-chance the General was waiting in the wings to trap them in a pincer movement.

 

He peered around the corner, saw the Wutaians he was trailing up ahead. He couldn’t use the roofs because they were too close to the city walls, and the tight alley with its lanterns and banners hanging overhead meant he had to bend slightly to ensure he didn’t hit anything with his head or Masamune. On the plus side, the items hanging overhead meant those on the walls wouldn’t have a clear view of him.

 

The team of Wutaians was turning the corner up ahead, so Sephiroth entered the alley proper on silent feet, dodging hanging lanterns and streamers almost without looking, keeping his senses tuned for the sounds of anyone approaching him, for the sounds of the Wutaians he was trailing. He reached the end of the alley without encountering anyone, peered around the corner he’d seen the Wutaians head to just in time to catch a glimpse of a heel disappearing into what looked like part of the wall. Inching forward cautiously, he saw that it WAS a wall - at least, the reflection of one, through a clever arrangement of reflective surfaces. 

 

That explained why their spies hadn’t had much luck.

 

He moved through the optical illusion, trusting his olfactory and auditory senses to guide him. It was only lightning fast reflexes and cat-like grace that kept him from tumbling through the hole in the ground. A rope hung from the ceiling, to someone without a Mako gaze, it wouldn’t have been visible in the darkness if one wasn’t looking expressly for it. He didn’t want to use the rope, not wanting the sway from his weight to give himself away, so he moved stealthily along the wall to the other side of the gaping hole and peered over the edge. He spotted Nara Shikamaru, Godo’s chief strategist by Shinra intel, and Uchiha Sasuke, Godo’s chief assassin, along with at least fifteen other Wutaians. From the looks of it, Shikamaru was inspecting the head the men had found, but his shoulder was blocking Sephiroth’s view. 

 

He didn’t have much time to consider his options. Uchiha had detected him, dark eyes honing in on Sephiroth’s glowing emeralds. 

 

He leapt down into the fray, Masamune at the ready, heard the clang of swords clashing, then allowed himself to get lost in the flow of combat. 

 

Uchiha was an excellent opponent - highly-skilled, fast and deadly, never telegraphing any strikes and always keeping his opponent guessing. But Sephiroth was a genetically-enhanced super-soldier born and bred for battle, and he had forty-two minutes left before Highwind returned to pick him up. 

 

He generally preferred not to rely on Materia in a fight, preferred to use only his Masamune, but it was a cramped space and he had to stop the Wutaians from revealing his presence in their city. 

 

The Wutaians were ill-prepared for the blast of Master Level Ice magic, freezing over in seconds. He struck the frozen statues, watched them shatter into pieces, before searching for the head that Nara had dropped earlier. He found it under a table - its face stomped in some time during the skirmish but Sephiroth would recognize it anywhere. 

 

_Genesis._

 

Why was a Genesis clone in Wutai? Why was it wearing Wutaian gear? Was Genesis here? Had he come to ally with Wutai? Or to incite more anger? 

 

Shinra was trying to keep information on Genesis’ betrayal quiet, which meant that the redhead was still associated with SOLDIER in the eyes of the public. Having a clone run amok in Wutai would definitely incite an act of retaliation by the city-state, but there had to be more to it than that. 

 

Thirty-seven minutes left. He would think about Genesis later - for now, he had to collect whatever information he could find in this room then continue looking for more of Godo’s inner circle to take out. If Genesis was here, then Sephiroth would try to knock some sense into his old friend and drag him back to Midgar. If he wasn’t, then Sephiroth would have to figure out what Genesis was up to, what Angeal was up to, and find a way to bring his friends back. 

 

He wasn’t 100% sure about how friendship worked, but he was relatively certain that being friends meant you didn’t forsake each other or the bonds you shared. 

 

The familiar pang was back, so he shoved aside all thoughts of his friends and focused on looking for clues as to what Wutai was planning, and information on their arsenals and network. He could feel the epinephrine kicking in, knew his enhancements would take it to overdrive and keep him at optimum performance for the remaining time they had left on the mission. And after that…

 

_Startlingly vivid sapphires, his name on soft pink lips._

 

He grit his teeth and pushed aside thoughts of Cloud. He was on a mission right in the heart of enemy territory - he couldn’t afford to get distracted with visions of the pretty little blond.  

 

He couldn’t wait to get back to Midgar, and maybe have dinner at Zack’s again. Sephiroth refused to think about whether or not he hoped a certain blue-eyed cadet would be there too.

 

##

 

**\- Sunday. 2300 hours. -**

 

Cloud shifted and turned over in bed, his thoughts not allowing him to fall into slumber. Over and over he wondered where Zack was, where Sephiroth was, if the silver-haired man was on the same mission as Zack, if they were OK, if they were thinking about him.

 

Ray had given him a half-amused, half-stern look yesterday and told him that Zack revealing he had a mission was a break with tradition and showed how much Cloud meant to him. It had warmed his heart hearing it, though immediately the fear returned with a vengeance. The others had spotted it, and told him that if he kept worrying about things he had no control over he’d just drive himself crazy.

 

 _And no one likes the cray cray_ , Ralph had said, grinning. Whatever ‘cray cray’ meant. 

 

He took a deep breath and let it out silently. They were right - there was no use worrying himself to pieces over things beyond his control. He had to focus on the task at hand: getting in to SOLDIER, and stopping Nibelheim from happening. Whatever Nibelheim was in this Remake. 

 

He’d drag Zack to Aeris’ church as soon as the black-haired First returned. Never mind if the man was covered in dirt or sweat or whatever else - he HAD to introduce them.

 

 _Come as you are, as you were_. 

 

He wondered what was happening in the future, how his friends were doing, how Cid was doing now after their little pep-talk. He hadn’t known about Rocket Town’s issues - which was odd because he was from Nibelheim and that fact never changed - but at the same time it was believable that he hadn’t paid attention before because he’d been so wrapped up in his own troubles, in his desire to fit in and become a ‘cool kid’ to get Tifa’s attention, he’d ignored everything else. 

 

He wondered how Tifa was doing here. She’d already be well underway on her training with Zangan, making her a kick-ass fighter. 

 

He wondered how Vincent was doing, sleeping in his coffin below the Manor in Nibelheim hating himself for his ‘failures’. 

 

At the thought of Vincent, he stilled. Deepground had existed since before SOLDIER, was beneath all of them within Reactor 0 now. Did Sephiroth know about them? Would he be able to take all of Deepground on in a fight?

 

Come to think of it - why had Deepground not been deployed to battle Sephiroth when he’d gone mad? While it was true that their implants meant they were loyal only to the President - which possibly meant they would only obey his orders, and therefore when he was murdered by Sephiroth they had no one to tell them what to do - it was unlikely that no one else in Shinra had knowledge of Deepground or the ability to command them at will. Surely Rufus would have known about them, would have tried to use them if he could have. 

 

Cloud recalled being told that Deepground members were stronger than SOLDIERs. While Sephiroth wasn’t a normal SOLDIER, Zack was just a man with ‘regular’ enhancements. Vincent had succeeded thanks to Chaos, while the future Cloud was genetically-modified and enhanced beyond regular SOLDIERs thanks to four years beneath Hojo’s scalpel. Would they stand a chance here?

 

_We can do anything, together._

 

Ray had said that as they’d toasted to their Battle Sims victory with the others on Friday night. The brunette had held Cloud’s gaze while he’d said it, kept his silver eyes locked firmly on Cloud’s even while they tilted their heads back to down their drinks. 

 

It was true. He wasn’t alone here, just as he hadn’t been alone in fighting Deepground 'before’. They all had to make it to SOLDIER together in order to be able to stand a chance against Jenova and Deepground, and anyone else who threatened the world. 

 

_Avengers Assemble._

 

Since worrying wasn’t going to help, he would plan instead. Cloud felt better at the thought, rolling over to lie on his back as he started to devise more ways to get all of Team Fenrir to improve physically during Crazy Bastards Training. There was only so much running could do to help them - they needed to work on their strength, agility and reflexes as well. 

 

He recalled what Tifa had mentioned of her training with Zangan, and smirked. The others might hate him for it now, but they’d thank him later. Every extra bit of training added to split-second reactions that might save their lives after all, might bring them home. 

 

_And home is where the heart is._

 

If that was true, Cloud’s home was both here and everywhere else. He missed his old friends. And he had no idea where Zack and Sephiroth were right now.

 

He fell asleep to dreams of Sephiroth and him watching the sunrise together, with all their friends and family around them. It was the most beautiful dream he’d ever had.

 

##

  
A/N: I realize a lot of people can’t wait for Zack and Aeris to meet, and for SxC ‘sexy time’. However, am attempting to make this slightly more realistic, bearing in mind they’re fighting a War and have Genesis and AVALANCHE to contend with (AND I’d been planning on not delivering the Z+A and S+C so soon - sorry for teasing all of you lol). I DO promise some 'parts that please’ in the coming chapters, though. Until then! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: Zack’s thought at the start of "I love my job, I love my job, I LOVE my job…” is by Emily Blunt’s character Emily in the film The Devil Wears Prada. “That all you’ve got?” is a quote by Jake Gyllenhaal’s Prince of Persia character in the Disney film of the same name. 
> 
> A/N 2: Johnny Blaze is the name of the Ghost Rider character by Marvel. In the comics and in this fic, Johnny Blaze is a stunt daredevil (except that in this fic Ghost Rider is nothing more than a nickname). 
> 
> A/N 3: Days of Future Past is the title of the 2014 X-Men movie about Wolverine being sent back into the past to avert a future crisis. In the film, Magneto says “Goodbye, old friend” - I’ve spun it here to become “Welcome back, old friend."
> 
> A/N 4: The dialog about Cid getting a haircut and shave, is ripped off my other favorite film The Rock - Stanley Goodspeed and John Mason have almost the same banter (except for the line about Kurt). 
> 
> A/N 5: 'Vidal’s in Sector 2' is named after Vidal Sassoon. Was stumped on a name for the salon.
> 
> A/N 6: Corporal Lemmy of Driver’s Ed is named after Ian Fraser "Lemmy” Kilmister, the sole constant member of English rock band Motörhead (Driver’s Ed…Motorhead…geddit, geddit?)
> 
> A/N 7: “I’ll kick your puny asses so hard, it’ll make your ancestors dizzy” is a paraphrased line from the animated Disney film Mulan. In the cartoon, Yao says to Mulan: "I'm gonna hit you so hard, it'll make your ancestors dizzy.”
> 
> A/N 8: Jared’s backstory revealed, and I’d like to clarify a few things to those who deem the tone OOC or just completely “off” from the pervy blond we’re familiar with. He is a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, who had previously only known a life of traveling and racing - wild and free - with parents who loved and protected him. Then they died and his world changed - no matter the interventions of Ray (more on Ray’s part later) and Ralph, no matter how much Cloud and the rest are accepting and caring etc, the scars and traces of the “conditioning” from the dark period of his life remain. Like everyone else in this fic, he will grow and evolve with time, maybe (I’m trying to keep the mystery - please indulge me). Please also bear in mind that I’m not a psychologist, and I am fortunate to not have experienced such trauma - so I may just be pulling words out of my ass w.r.t. Jared’s past and current behavior.
> 
> A/N 9: A fair few Nirvana references this chapter, just because. Not sure if anyone noticed - in the part where the boys meet Cid, Cloud references “Smells like teen spirit” by its title. In Zack’s part on the chopper, he references the band (“Nirvana”) and “Heart-shaped box” lyrics. In the Cloud POV during Sword Training, he references the lyrics to The Man Who Sold The World (originally by David Bowie but Nirvana did a rendition) when his inner voice says “Who knows, not me. We never lost control” - the next lines are “You’re face to face, with the man who sold the world” (the latter part of that line is referenced by Cloud again when he’s looking at himself in the mirror). The boys sing “Smells like teen spirit” during Battle Sims. Cloud references “Come as you are” in his final POV. 
> 
> A/N 10: Reference made by Zack when Rocket Towners learn that Cid made the deal: "A New Hope" is the name of the fourth Star Wars movie (and the first of the series to be released), which introduced future Jedi Luke Skywalker and everyone’s favorite cocky pilot, Han Solo. 
> 
> A/N 11: “The best defense is a good offense” is an adage that has been applied to many fields of endeavor, including games and military combat. It is also known as the Strategic Offensive principle of war. (Source: Wikipedia)
> 
> A/N 12: The little song the cadets sing during Battle Sims is from Willy Wonka - it was planted in my head thanks to a comment by Risikaa aka Borderline Insanity (promised you I’d use it, hun), and I decided to roll with it just as I had the pirate’s song and “opportune moment” in previous chapters. 
> 
> A/N 13: Cloud references Pearl S Buck’s “The Devil Never Sleeps” in his Saturday afternoon POV - the story is that of two devout priests in China being harassed by communist soldiers who view the Church as a threat to the sovereignty of the State while the younger of the two priests is forced to deal with his feelings for a young Chinese woman who hopes to entice him along the path to romance (source: Goodreads). He also references the James Bond film “You Only Live Twice” in the same segment. Sephiroth references JM Walsh’s novel “Bullets for Breakfast” in his Sunday morning POV. The novel is a secret service thriller set in Palestine before WWII. 
> 
> A/N 14: Cameo by Nara Shikamaru and Sasuke Uchiha of Naruto - I couldn’t think of any names for the characters. Also mentions of Pumpkin and Honey Bunny by Reno - both are characters from Pulp Fiction - as well as Joker and Harley Quinn from the DC Universe.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost Karma - Chapter 12
> 
> By StarSongVII
> 
> Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and make no money from this work. Final Fantasy VII and its characters and settings belong to Square Enix. 
> 
> Warnings: Swearing, mature themes, violence, angst, potential triggers, cultural appropriation, alcohol abuse, violence, and yaoi. Also Cloud hooking up with others. Don't like, don't read.  
> 
> A/N: Sorry for the delay. Been absolutely hooked on Mass Effect Andromeda because Jaal. This chapter takes some of the plot lines forward slightly, while I try to keep character development present and weave in other information without giving too much away (I’m STILL setting up this world and the various arcs - it’s a long fic and there are 40+ chapters to go after this one). Thanks for all the kind comments and notes of encouragement! They really helped me get through this chapter, when all I want to do is sleep or play ME:A whenever possible. 

**\- Monday. 0010 hours. 9 weeks till SOLDIER Exams. -**

 

Zack narrowly dodged the shuriken, rolling on the ground as a katana swung at him from the side before rising to his feet while slicing the Wutaian diagonally across his torso, separating the man’s left and right ventricles. As the shuriken returned, it was blasted away by a shotgun and the First turned slightly, wanting to grin at the female Rambo running towards him cocking her shotgun with five other guns strapped to her torso and legs, bullets strung around her neck like the fanciest of pearl necklaces, red bandana tied around her forehead. 

 

Vikers clearly got his affinity for guns from his mother’s side of the family.

 

Beside his sister, Highwind was firing away madly at Wutaians and whooping like it was the Wild Wild West all over again, the blond man having previously joined the fight with guns from a shed, now resorting to grabbing whatever he could find on the ground and from injured Shinra grunts. 

 

They pulled up alongside him, panting but grinning, and Zack grinned back. The Rocket Towners were a tough bunch, all of them taking up positions with a familiarity that belied years of roughing it in a place where the rule of law was enforced with might and metal. He turned back towards the Wutaian army, saw an arrow fly past and explode upon impact with a crude dragon-faced rocket in the middle of the pile from which the Wutaians had launched several others at the SOLDIER choppers. 

 

Vikers obviously got his aim from his father. 

 

The older Vikers had caught up with them, mechanical bow in his left hand as he pulled another arrow from his quiver. The man’s Rocket Town heritage was clear as day in how the arrows were modified to be able to explode or hone in on targets. 

 

“‘Bout damn time, Hawkeye.” Highwind was laughing, cigarette in his mouth making Zack wonder what would happen if the man tripped and fell on his face. Thankfully he was still sober. 

 

The elder Vikers grunted, firing away at Wutaians with graceful, unceasing movements, and Zack took the moment Legolas was giving him to catch a breather. It’d been days since he’d rested - they should have been en route to Del Sol by now, far away from Wutai and Rocket Town, but the Wutaians had launched a surprise attack in retaliation as they were departing a few hours ago.

 

It had only been Highwind’s early warning shout, and the SOLDIERs’ quick reflexes, that had allowed them to bail out of the choppers already hovering above the ground in time, the regulation army not having boarded their helos yet and able to dive for cover easily. Then those dragon-faced fireworks had hit, and their rides out of Town had been blown to bits in mid-air, shrapnel and fire raining down on SOLDIERs and townspeople. 

 

“Incoming!” Highwind was shouting again, and the foursome ducked as another of those godforsaken fireworks shot past them before the Highwind siblings turned and blasted it to smithereens as it approached someone’s caravan. Cursing, the pilot turned back to the front, muttering about wishing “the kid” was here to help even the odds. No need to wonder who he was referring to, not with the way the female Highwind was grinning and saying her baby was the finest damned gunslinger in town. 

 

Zack didn’t have time to rest. He had to get the Wutaians away from Rocket Town as Sephiroth had ordered, then the SOLDIERs would push the Wutaians back while the regulation army stayed behind to protect the townspeople and help put out the flames. Turning to the Highwind and Vikers family, he nodded then dashed forward, sword slicing through enemies with ease. Behind him he could hear the female Rambo muttering about him “carryin’ around a big ass sword for show” - and he grinned. He was Brigadier General Zack Fair - he wouldn’t use Angeal’s sword unless he was desperate. It wouldn’t do to get it scratched or dented, not when he would have to give it back to Angeal some day. 

 

Up ahead he could see Sephiroth cutting down swathes of enemies with Masamune, occasionally punctuating his strikes with blasts of magic. It was unusual for the silver-haired man to use Materia so much in combat, but Zack knew they were pinned between an angry army and a town full of half-starved civilians. His friend was doing his best to get the battle to move away from so many innocent lives, but even Sephiroth wouldn’t be able to sustain such spell casting for long. While their Mako enhancements facilitated Materia usage - whether they were the recipients of healing spells or the casters of defensive or offensive magic - allowing SOLDIERs and Turks to be more adept with Materia than the non-enhanced, even they had their limits. Sephiroth’s might have been higher than anyone else’s, but he was only human. 

 

He charged forward towards Sephiroth, yelling at the other SOLDIERs to get in formation and _hold the damn line_ , reaching his commander in time to take the head off a Wutaian who’d been attempting to sneak up on the General. No one was hurting his friend, not while Zack still breathed. 

 

In the distance, he could see more Wutaians running towards them, Godo no doubt having unleashed his army on the SOLDIERs after discovering the damage Sephiroth and his infiltration team had wrought. Zack gripped his sword tight, readied himself. The SOLDIERs were outnumbered - even if they counted the regulation army and townspeople, the Wutaians still had superior numbers. But SOLDIER had one thing going for them: they had Sephiroth, the greatest warrior the world had ever known. 

 

The silver-haired man was charging forward again, Masamune at the ready and freezing Wutaians to death with his other hand, so Zack let out a yell and dashed forward as well.

 

He wasn’t going to let his friend fight alone. They were in this together, they were all making it home _together_.

 

More and more Wutaians were approaching, their battle cries and demonic masks in the dark of the night - lit only by a sliver of a moon - no doubt aimed at intimidating their opponents. But Zack was a SOLDIER First Class, and the General’s Right-Hand Man. He’d kill anyone and anything that threatened his friends, that threatened their happiness.

 

They were going home together, they would make it home this week, and then he’d set Cloud and Sephiroth up on a dinner date somehow. 

 

With a loud “OO-RAH!” he leapt into the air, landing on a group of Wutaians and splitting one of them - the Imperial Guard - right down the middle. The others drew back in fear before readying their weapons and charging at him, and he smirked.

 

_Go ahead. Make my day._

 

##

 

**\- Monday. 1920 hours. -**

 

Reno wondered when the black-haired SOLDIER was coming back. While it was admittedly interesting working in threes in private training, he didn’t like being in the same group as Tranton. The kid was an idiot and a half, and only Jared was patient enough to tolerate the Kalm kid’s bumbling. 

 

He glanced at where Cloud was taking on Ray and Ralph easily, never giving his back to the circling dark-haired cadets, moving too fast for them to catch him. If Ralph had a gun, it’d be a different story for sure. And if they’d been up to their usual weekend antics, there was no way the blond would be able to move like that for long.

 

But this past weekend had been their most decent in a while - somehow everyone had been a bit too drained, it’d felt a bit too wrong to get jiggy. The little dark cloud over Cloud (pun intended) was obvious to all of them, though the blond seemed to have snapped out of it slightly, especially with his new Crazy Bastards Training Recipe this morning. 

 

Reno wondered how the smaller kid could even move after all their training this morning. He’d wanted to smash a pretty face in as soon as Cloud had explained the new training modules to all of them, then he’d wanted to smash Tranton’s head in for complaining so much. Fortunately, Ray, Ralph and Jared had stepped in to convince and charm the others into giving it their all, while Grant had silently started on the first set of plyometrics as soon as Cloud had ended his explanation. 

 

Gunny Payne had been more sadistic than ever in PT though - Reno wondered if the man was just constantly sexually frustrated. With a mug like that, it wasn’t a surprise. 

 

He dodged Brian’s clumsy strike out of habit and reflexes refined in the slums, focused in time to avoid Jared’s swift elbow and moved to place Brian in between himself and the lithe blond. All the while, Mendez was watching, yelling instructions at them, correcting movements and postures. Reno listened with half an ear as he circled around Brian who was pinned in between Jared and the redhead, looking for an opening that would allow him to take both his opponents down.

 

He let himself get lost in the rhythm of the fight - while Brian was absolutely useless, Jared was a decent opponent: quick and dirty, just like Reno. The redhead had been getting too used to sparring with Cloud - the change of pace and style was a little refreshing. 

 

As Reno zoned out, his thoughts drifted to the intel he’d gathered yesterday in the slums. He’d slipped away from the others for a bit as usual, making his rounds, and from what he’d heard AVALANCHE was planning something big very soon. He wondered what it was, if Shinra would be able to stop them, how many civilians would be caught in the cross fire again. 

 

He couldn’t wait to become a Turk. It was a dirty, thankless job, but he didn’t care. The money was good, and his vendetta against AVALANCHE would be sanctioned (his vendetta against that Scarlet whore was a different story).

 

_If you’re good at something, never do it for free._

 

He’d considered slipping Shinra his information many times before, but held back for several reasons. Firstly because he doubted they would pay him for it - given he was in the cadet program, he wouldn’t put it past them to force him to keep working for them for free under threat of being kicked out. Secondly, he was relatively certain Shinra had their own networks of informants in the slums - and if he couldn’t give them more details then he doubted what he had was very much different from what they’d already learned. The third - and main - reason annoyed him: he’d never doubted himself or his skills before, had built a name for himself in the slums, but when it came to the Turks - when it came to _Verdot_ \- Reno wanted to be sure whatever he had to offer was perfect. He didn’t want to give them a reason to reject him, especially not when he was so close to fulfilling the promise he’d made to himself over the mangled corpses of “lab rats” and “collateral damage”. 

 

He didn’t want to disappoint himself or anyone else. He’d earned his place in the slums - Verdot had given him the kindling but Reno had lit the flames - and he’d earned his place in the cadet program. He would earn his place in the Turks, then fight his way to the top. That was the way the world worked - unless you were born to Shinra or even the Johnson family, you had to work for everything you wanted. And if you weren’t willing to make sacrifices along the way, then you didn’t deserve success - because you clearly didn’t want it bad enough. 

 

He glanced at Cloud, saw the smaller cadet pull off another insane combo that had Ray and Ralph on the floor in seconds, and wondered how much the blond had sacrificed. No one became that good without losing something in return.

 

_No pain, no gain._

 

##

 

**\- Tuesday. 0810 hours. -**

 

Cid could barely muster the strength to groan as he collapsed by his trailer. He was fortunate the spear he’d grabbed off a dead Wutaian had doubled as a walking stick. Albeit one that did some major damage when the pointy end went into the other guy, or even when its shaft was being slammed into someone’s head. 

 

He wondered how those crazy SOLDIERs were still on their feet and fighting after going without sleep for so long. It wasn’t normal, but he couldn’t complain. If it hadn’t been for the General and his second-in-command, and all the other SOLDIER boys in town, their little encampment would have been wiped off the map even before they got the chance to start their lives anew. 

 

He accepted the drink Will handed to him gratefully, gulped cool water down before lighting a cigarette and handing his brother-in-law the pack. They smoked in silence for awhile, glad for the breather and the fact that the SOLDIERs had successfully drawn the Wutaians far away from Rocket Town. 

 

He wished Ralph had been here. The kid was a crackshot like his dad, could be counted on to take enemies out from afar with his home-made sniper rifle, but more than that the punk was a brilliant inventor whose traps had kept their town safe for years like that kid protecting his home from a pair of dumbass burglars.

 

Cid chucked at the memory of one of Ralph’s traps dousing a Wutaian in oiled chicken feathers before another trap set the flailing man alight. 

 

_Finger lickin’ good._

 

Then Cid sobered. The kid shouldn’t have had to learn to kill at that age - when other kids were only playing ‘pretend’ - wouldn’t have had to if it wasn’t for Cid's damn pride denying the Town safety and security. 

 

A nudge, and familiar dark eyes were holding his in a steady, tired gaze. Then Will nodded at him. “Thanks, Cid.”

 

He wondered how Will could still be so calm, could always treat him politely despite losing a son to Cid’s pride. 

 

A clap on his shoulder, and Will was giving him a tired smile. “The past is past. Let’s move on together, make the most of what we have left.”

 

_The past is past._

 

He shook his head, forcing away the doubt and guilt. It wasn’t like him - he’d always been a pragmatist, never been the kind to worry and mope. It was better to focus on what he could do, focus on fixing things, focus on what good could come out of whatever it was he was doing. 

 

Will was leaning on his shoulder slightly as the black-haired man pushed himself to his feet, groaning at the energy required for such a simple act. Cid looked up at his brother-in-law, face and coloring so similar to Ralph’s and yet so aged, and nodded.

 

As he watched his old friend and in-law walk wearily towards his caravan, as he watched other townspeople continue their clean up just as they’d always done whenever the War or the Gangs blew through, he wondered if everyone was standing just a bit straighter, steps just a bit lighter, or if his eyes were playing tricks on him thanks to his exhaustion.

 

He needed to sleep. He wasn’t a SOLDIER, dammit.

 

At the thought of the SOLDIERs he stilled as he struggled to his feet, pushing the spear into the ground as he tried to pull himself up while leaning against the trailer behind him. 

 

That silver-haired punk had stepped in and vouched for the kid, had vouched for all those brats with a look of pride on his face. Cid had heard that the General didn’t get involved with anyone beneath SOLDIER-level, but the fact remained that the man seemed to know Ralph and those friends of his, had intervened in their little domestic dispute in order to stop Cindy from making her son quit the cadet program and come home. 

 

The look of pride on the General’s face had been strongest when he’d been talking about one of the bunch in particular whom Ralph saw as a leader. Cid got the feeling it was that little blond kid - the one who’d seemed to know him, who’d used his first name and kept trying to break through to him. He’d felt an odd sense of disorientation when he’d shaken hands with the boy, chalked it up to the fact that he hadn’t eaten or slept in a while, had journeyed to Midgar on the backs of livestock transports because he hadn’t had the money to get on a commercial vehicle. 

 

So the silver-haired SOLDIER had a thing for the little blond, then? Cid had to admit the kid was pretty, with his big blue eyes and sweet face, but more than that there was something about the boy that grabbed your soul and refused to let go.

 

He stood at last, turned to grab the handle of his trailer door and swung it open, wrinkling his nose and jerking backwards at the stench that exploded out of the dark confines. 

 

_Holy fucking hell!_

 

Had he really been living in this mess? Had he really been worse than a pig rolling in shit? Had he really sunk so low?

 

Yes, he had. He’d lived bottle to bottle, always angry and bitter over that incident - that betrayal - that had cost him his dreams, his friends, his family. He’d held stubbornly onto his pride, believing it was all he had left, the only thing left that Shinra hadn’t been able to take. 

 

Could he really do it again? Build the rocket that Shinra wanted? Failure wasn’t an option - if he got it wrong, Shinra would cut funding, remove their protection from the town, and they’d be back to square one.

 

_You can do it, Cid._

 

The memory of those words, bright blue eyes staring up at him determinedly, willing him to believe in himself, stilled him. Then he lit a cigarette, turned and leaned against the doorway, his back to the stinking mess inside, and tilted his head up. The sky beckoned, calling him to the heavens - and beyond its cloudless blue vastness, to Space: the Final Frontier.

 

_Damn straight I can do it._

 

He thought back to Ralph and his brat friends, to the silver-haired punk who’d intervened in his family drama. The SOLDIERs were fighting hard to protect Rocket Town - it wasn’t just because it was now under Shinra’s protection, Cid knew. The General’s first concern as soon as the choppers exploded and he’d determined no one had been killed had been for the townspeople - his first orders were to the grunts to protect the town, before he ordered the SOLDIERs to lead the Wutaians away from the civilians. 

 

Seemed the God of War had a heart.

 

Cid looked up at the skies again, saw the endless blue that reminded him of a tiny blond kid with the gaze of an old man, and cursed to himself.

 

He’d always been too damned nice for his own good. 

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 1028 hours. -**

 

Sephiroth cut the Wutaians down, willing himself to keep moving, to not let fatigue win. They’d finished their rations yesterday - despite SOLDIER protocol requiring everyone to carry more than required for missions in case they became trapped behind enemy lines and had to fight their way out - everyone had been taking bites whenever they could to try to stave off the fact that it’d been a week since they’d slept. But all the Mako-enhancements and genetic modifications in the world couldn’t stop the laws of nature. 

 

They’d been fortunate - and pleasantly surprised - when Highwind had flown over the melee with that beat-up plane of his yesterday, firing wildly while swooping and diving to mess up the Wutaians’ formation, retreating to Rocket Town to refuel at intervals then flying back over, sometimes with the Vikers couple tied to the doorway shooting arrows or bullets, sometimes alone with just his superior piloting ability to aid him. The man was due to fly back over anytime now, and Sephiroth was secretly glad for it. His men were exhausted - _he_ was exhausted - and they still had several hundred Wutaians to deal with. 

 

Around him bodies littered the ground, blood and organs making for slippery footing, as crows swooped in behind them to peck at the dead while wolves waited nearby at night. He pushed the thought of his men - the SOLDIERs killed by Genesis clones and abandoned by the road - out of his mind, focused on just taking out the Wutaians in front of him. Beside him, Zack was panting, arms shaking as he struggled to hold on to his sword, gripping the hilt - slippery with blood - tight as the First swung wildly at Wutaians around them, hints of his usual form and grace still present but fading quickly. They hadn’t anticipated such a swift counter-attack - the infiltration team had destroyed eighteen weapons depos and caches, and numerous food stores, smithies, medical centers, and other critical installations while executing multiple Wutaian soldiers and commanders - SOLDIER didn’t have the forces or weaponry needed to face such a large direct onslaught so quickly, and Sephiroth cursed himself for not planning for this scenario. It was another in his long list of failures that had started when the very first men under his command had fallen all those years ago. 

 

Why couldn't he be as perfect as everyone said he was? Why couldn't he do everything right and keep everyone safe? Why couldn’t he end the War without losing anyone else?  _Why?_

 

A harsh _clang_ drew Sephiroth from his internal tirade, and he saw that Zack had slipped slightly, was struggling to regain his footing as a Wutaian bore down on him with a large halbeard, before the First surged up and forwards, managing to slit the man’s neck through the small opening where the flaps of his helmet met his armor. The dark-haired SOLDIER panted, sword almost sliding from his grip even as he wiped sweat from his brow and turned towards where more Wutaians were charging at them. 

 

They had to end this soon, or they wouldn’t be able to go home. 

 

That thought - the flash of tear-filled baby blue eyes - somehow gave him the strength to charge forward, somehow gave him the ability to call forth another blast of Lightning magic that shocked the Wutaians enough to let their guard down and allow him to lope their heads off. He wanted to curse at how weak his strikes were now - how he needed Materia to “soften” his enemies up - but he didn’t have the energy to do that. It was all they could do to stay standing, to keep fighting as wave after wave of Wutaians came at them on fresh legs. He’d given his last two rations to his men, had refused to eat them - saying he didn’t need it - and it was only pride and that odd desire to return to Midgar that was keeping him going - that burning feeling in his chest that told him he had to get everyone home safe, that he couldn’t let anyone fall, that _he_ couldn’t fall because someone was waiting for him.

 

The sound of propellers brought a small curve to his lips. Highwind was back.

 

_Just keep swimming._

 

Zack had said that to him yesterday as Sephiroth had bent forward slightly, chest heaving but refusing to pant in front of his men. The dark-haired First had clapped him on the shoulder, eyes weary but determined. 

 

 _“We’re all going home, Seph,”_ Zack had said, before turning and charging forward alone, no doubt seeking to buy Sephiroth some time to recover. He couldn’t allow himself to, not when his friend - and Zack _was_ his friend - was facing Wutai alone. 

 

Sephiroth wouldn’t let any harm come to Zack, wouldn’t let anymore men fall under his command. He’d lost enough already. 

 

_Sixty-four._

 

Fifty-six grunts and eight Thirds under Zack’s command had fallen at Wutai’s Gate. More were injured - some serious, some minor. Only the infiltration team had remained relatively unscathed. 

 

Zack had had a dark look in his eyes on Sunday while they were tallying the numbers, sending those in need of urgent medical attention to Junon on the first few choppers, laying the grievously wounded out in helos as gently as possible while those who could still stand waited for the return wave to extract them. 

 

_Sixty-four._

 

Sixty-four families denied a loved one’s return. Sixty-four living, breathing people who would never breathe again. Countless dreams taken violently, countless tears waiting to be shed. 

 

_Sixty-four._

 

Sixty-four dead, because Sephiroth hadn’t been good enough.

 

_That’s not true!_

 

A voice, so very like Zack’s, resounded in his head. He glanced at the dark-haired man, saw him panting but determined as he yelled - _that was such a waste of energy, Zachary_ \- and kept charging forward, never backing down, never giving any ground to their enemies, always soldiering on no matter how tough things got. 

 

He gripped the handle of his own sword tight, noted the gash in his glove from where a Wutaian had come dangerously close to taking his hand off. He had to do better, he had to _be_ better - he had to protect them all. Gritting his teeth and willing the exhaustion away, he leapt forward and spun, taking off several heads at once.

 

“Yeah! Go, Seph!”

 

Somehow the hedgehog was managing to cheer him on in the middle of a War. The man was too damn perky for his own good.

 

And yet…that was why Sephiroth couldn’t let anything happen to him. 

 

He kept swinging Masamune, slicing and slashing, occasionally using Materia and kicks to supplement his efforts. Highwind was diving and firing madly, dodging Wutai's hand-held rockets and even using his propellers to mince anyone along the way. 

 

_Just keep swimming._

 

He wondered how Cloud was doing, if the blond was thinking about him.

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 1512 hours. -**

 

Cid cursed as he dodged yet another of those damned dragon-faced rockets, firing at the Wutaians in his sights even as he flipped the Bronco over before diving back down. 

 

As he spun the plane around, he could see Cindy, Will and several other townspeople rushing to the aid of the SOLDIERs on the backs of pick-up trucks, armed with rocket-launchers, guns, and home-made weapons that dealt more damage than they looked capable of. 

 

_You punks walked into the wrong fucking town._

 

Grinning, he turned the plane around, whooping and charging at Wutaians. More of those blasted rockets fired his way, and he narrowly angled the Bronco in time to slip through. Sweat was dripping down his brow - it’d been a long time since he’d flown under such high pressure for so many hours - and he wiped it away quickly. 

 

“I picked a helluva time to quit drinkin’,” he muttered to himself.

 

Once they’d dealt with the Wutai punks, he’d crack open the bottle of champagne hidden in the shed. It’d been meant for the toast to his successful launch ten years ago, and he’d refused to look at it after that, but now…

 

_Fresh start._

 

Rocket Town would be fixed, would become a real town - with houses and electricity and paved streets - and no one would have to starve to death or die of curable illness ever again. 

 

He flew through the Wutaians’ formation, twisting the Bronco left and right to dodge rockets, struggling with the controls to the lumbering plane. The kid had made it too damn big, too damn heavy - but that meant that it could take the damage hurled at it by angry soldiers. 

 

_Like a fucking flying tank._

 

The Bronco was a solid piece of work, had been built by Ralph when the kid had gotten it into his head to fly them all out of Rocket Town and to “somewhere better”, and Cid recalled thinking at the time that the punk really was a genius, putting a plane together at such a young age with scraps and nothing more than Cid’s old sketches to guide him. 

 

_I’ll always be proud of you, kid._

 

Ralph was becoming a fine man, would be a great SOLDIER, a person who saved lives for a living. And Cid would be damned if anyone held his nephew back from doing whatever it was he wanted to do. The kid had suffered for too long - had had to grow up too fast because of him - so if he wanted to stay on in the cadet program and join SOLDIER with his buddies, then Cid would be there to cheer him on. 

 

A loud bang and the controls rattled as the plane shook, the scent of smoke reaching his nostrils. Cid cursed - he’d been careless, hadn’t seen that rocket coming, and the dials were telling him he was rapidly losing fuel and his left engine. 

 

_Fuck it._

 

He pulled the yoke back, angled the plane up for his final dive, saw the dials telling him he couldn’t do it and wanted to tell them where to stick it. Nobody told Cid Highwind what he could or could not do with a damned plane. 

 

He turned, dove back down, saw Wutaians scattering as he fired madly while heading straight for their supply of those blasted dragon-faced rockets in a fiery Bronco. 

 

He’d been CaptaIn of the Space Cowboys - Leader of Starfleet - and he’d be damned before he turned tail and ran, he’d shoot himself before he ‘played it safe’. That wasn’t what the Space Cowboys stood for - that wasn’t what Jess and Johnny had died for - and he’d be damned if he let anyone forget it. Some of them had left - had either turned traitor like that blonde bitch or just kept feeding the wanderlust while looking for somewhere they belonged - some had stayed, but the years had turned them bitter and hardened, a far cry from the starry-eyed dreamers they’d been a decade ago. It was on him to bring the Space Cowboys back. The world may have forgotten them, may have moved on and thought them just relics of a hippie past, but the world was fucking wrong. 

 

Captain Cid Highwind was Back in Black. 

 

“In the words of my generation,” he yelled, though no one could hear him over the sounds of the propellers and the flames, his left engine blowing itself apart in the air, the rattling of controls in the cockpit. “UP YOURS!!!” The Bronco hit the rockets and the ground hard, nose-first even though Cid had been trying to pull it out of the dive in time - had only wanted the flames to just scratch the surface of the rockets while he flew over - and he was flung forward towards the reinforced glass, closing his eyes and turning his face away from the heat of the explosion as he thought about how much he wished his little copilot had been there with him, while thinking to himself that he was so fucking glad the kid was safe in Midgar with his friends.  

 

_I’ll always be proud of you, kid._

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 1520 hours. -**

 

Cloud was trying to focus on his strokes as he sped through his laps, but it was difficult and he was glad he was in the middle of the large pool, where instructors couldn’t really bother him. 

 

It’d been more than a week since Zack had left, and all the words of encouragement from the others couldn’t change the fact that Cloud just wanted to know if his black-haired friend was safe - if he was coming home. He’d hoped that by tiring himself out daily at Crazy Bastards Training, PT, and all their numerous classes, he’d be able to at least slip into dreamless slumber, but that wasn’t the case. For the past two nights, all he’d dreamt about were flames and blood and cold green light. It was exhausting - mentally, emotionally, and physically - and he couldn’t wait for the weekend so he could just sleep past noon. He’d been a bit slower than usual in hand-to-hand earlier, almost getting clocked in the face by Ray and close to hearing a ringing in his ears. 

 

_Just keep swimming._

 

Jared had said it to him jauntily earlier as they prepared to dive into the pool, the other blond looking absolutely ridiculous with his cheap Shinra-issued swim cap and goggles but then again they all did. It was hard to look good in what Reno called a “head condom”.

 

Cloud wondered if Sephiroth, with his ridiculously long and perfect mane, ever bothered wearing one of those. The head condom - not the other ‘head' condom. 

 

_Goddammit._

 

The memory of the condom conversation earlier messed with his rhythm slightly, making him almost take a breath underwater, and he refocused on his strokes even as his thoughts drifted to the banter between classes. 

 

They’d been joking around on the way to Swimming after Drill Training, with Jared saying he hoped for Cloud’s sake that the Masamune was an advertisement and not a compensation. Cloud had tripped over his feet at that insinuation as the others laughed raucously even as Cloud glared at Reno as the redhead snickered and wondered what would happen if the man turned out to just have an average-sized dagger, something about steroids shrinking sex organs. Ralph had wanted to start a betting pool about the General’s condom size.

 

Thankfully they’d reached the pool by then, and Corporal Thorpe had yelled at them to quit yapping and get in the water. Cloud really didn’t want to think about a green-eyed SOLDIER’s condom size. 

 

_Who do you think you’re kidding?_

 

Cloud hadn’t been laid in awhile, that much was obvious. But while it’d be easy to just get it on with any of the others - to slip away for a quickie in the bathroom or head to their usual over the weekend - it felt…wrong somehow. Like he shouldn’t be doing that anymore now that he’d met Sephiroth and had, well, sat next to him all of Saturday night two weeks ago. At the same time though, the ever present negativity inside mocked those feelings constantly - telling him that it was a mere pipe dream, that the General had clearly forgotten all about him, that Cloud was insignificant and worthless and always would be. 

 

_Stop it._

 

He decided to change his focus, thinking back to the frown on Reno’s face when the redhead had rejoined them on Sunday at a random stall in the slums. They’d been sitting at some cheap table on whatever stools and crates they could find, drinking and chatting about random things - idle gossip about other cadets, cars, bikes, guns - when Reno sauntered up with a dark look in clear blue eyes. The redhead hadn’t said much at first, grabbing a bottle and chiming in to the conversation at times, only quietly saying three words to Cloud, Ray, Ralph and Jared later as their group walked off towards their favorite dinner joint. 

 

“AVALANCHE’s planning something.”

 

Ray’s eyes had narrowed slightly at that, but other than that no one reacted outwardly in the middle of the crowded alley. 

 

Cloud didn’t really remember the old AVALANCHE - even his memories of joining the team under Barrett were somewhat spotty, given how out of it he’d been at the time - but judging by what Reno had said previously it seemed the original iteration was much more vicious. Or maybe they were the same - blowing up reactors and not really caring who got caught in the blast so long as they made a statement and earned some money.

 

He wondered if he’d have to stop them this time - he didn’t think Barrett had joined yet, if he remembered what his friend had told him - and wondered how he’d do it when he had nothing to go on, no memories to guide him. 

 

If he believed in Fate, then he’d assume his new team would have something to do with it. They were skilled - that much was certain - and driven, each of them with their own reasons for wanting to graduate from the cadet program and make it to SOLDIER or the Turks. Cloud would need to up his game in order to ensure he could lead them well, take care of them, make sure no one got hurt. 

 

_Look at you, thinking you’re all that again._

 

_It’s not that._

 

He started slightly at the inner rebuttal, almost instantaneous in its defiance of the negativity, and his arm crashed back into the water with little grace. Frowning, he pulled, came up for air and went back under. 

 

It was true though. It wasn’t that he thought he was better than any of them. He just wanted to be able to do his part, to make sure everyone came home safe, to stop the fighting once and for all. And if he wanted to lead them, it was only because he had experience leading the team back in the future - knew first-hand how to make decisions quickly in the line of fire, knew how to best utilize each team member’s unique strengths. After all, Zack was Brigadier General and a fine First - those leadership traits, that keen intelligence, had passed on to him as a living legacy. It helped that the Sephiroth cells - which Cloud assumed contributed somewhat - had been present in his system. He wondered what that meant now, when he didn’t have traces of Zack and Sephiroth in his body. Would he still be able to make the right calls? Would he be able to help, when all he had now was a 15 year old’s body and the experience of an old man?

 

Ray and the others seemed to think so, seemed to think Team Fenrir unbeatable as long as Cloud was their boss. He wondered if they knew how much their confidence - their faith in him - meant to a broken man. He wondered if they knew that their unflagging devotion was sometimes all that enabled him to keep going, to keep moving forward, to keep fighting the good fight when all he wanted to do was curl up in a dark hole and rot into oblivion. He wondered if Zack and Aeris and Tifa and everyone else knew that, sometimes, the only thing that got him out of bed was the knowledge that they loved him, that they were counting on him to make things right. 

 

His right calf was starting to cramp - it hurt - and he wasn’t sure how much longer they’d have to keep at their laps. He just wanted to rest, just wanted to sleep, but at the same time he knew he had to keep going if he was to have a chance at fixing everything.

 

_Just keep swimming._

 

Maybe if he kept going, he’d finally find what he was looking for: somewhere he truly belonged. 

 

##

 

**\- Wednesday. 1534 hours. -**

 

_HOLY SHIT._

 

Zack stared as the flaming tin can crashed into the ground, crouching and covering his face with his arm instinctively. Beside him, Sephiroth had ducked too, while behind him the Rocket Towners were yelling - Highwind’s sister the loudest of them all as she watched her brother plummet into the earth in a Great Ball of Fire. 

 

When the explosions stopped, Zack rose, coughing at the dust that the impact of the crash had shaken from the ground. He could see the female Highwind and her husband rushing towards the wreckage, could see Wutaians getting to their feet and he charged forward. Sephiroth was already slicing down opponents that were attempting to attack the couple running to crash site. 

 

There weren’t many Wutaians left - Highwind’s antics had taken out plenty, and the Rocket Towners who’d rushed to aid the SOLDIERs had helped with their rockets and home-made guns. As Zack cut down several more Wutaians, he saw Sephiroth and the other SOLDIERs take down the remaining enemies, before the General was scanning the field with practised eyes and signalling to everyone to help dig Highwind’s corpse out of the wreckage of his plane. 

 

_This won't be pretty…_

 

He didn’t want to have to tell Cloud that his friend’s uncle had died helping them, didn’t want to see the face the kid would make when he realized his friend had lost someone so close to him because Zack hadn’t been good enough.

 

_Stop it! This isn’t about YOU!_

 

They moved towards the flames, saw Highwind’s sister and her husband trying desperately to reach the door, other Rocket Towners standing by looking dumbstruck at Highwind’s final desperate manoeuvre. 

 

Zack glanced at Sephiroth - saw the thin line of his commander’s lips and the dip of silver eyebrows - and wished the War was over so his friend wouldn’t have to keep staring Death in the face. 

 

What did he have to do? Who did he have to pray to for that?

 

_No church in the wild._

 

He grit his teeth, sheathing his sword as he watched Vikers drag his wife away from the burning wreckage, the female Highwind screaming hysterically for her little brother, calling him an idiot and a fucking asswipe, threatening him to be alive _or else_ , and then, miraculously, his ears picked up the sound of coughing. 

 

_Could it be…?_

 

He chanced a glance at the wreckage, saw Sephiroth had cocked his head slightly to focus better, then a muffled yell as the door was kicked off its hinges and a soot-covered figure was tumbling out, jacket and pants on fire as the man rolled around on the ground cursing and hacking and wheezing. 

 

Cindy Highwind and Will Vikers had dashed forward as soon as the figure had landed on the ground, throwing their jackets over the flames and patting them out frantically while the blond woman yelled curses through sobs. When at last the flames were extinguished, she threw her arms around the wheezing, coughing man, squeezing him tight and cussing over and over again even as she cried. 

 

Zack let out the breath he’d been holding, grinning and rubbing the back of his neck, euphoria keeping the exhaustion at bay. 

 

_He’s alive. The idiot’s ALIVE._

 

He wanted to laugh, wanted to hug someone, wanted to jump for joy at the fact that they hadn’t lost anyone else, that Cloud’s friend hadn’t lost his family member, that they were all alive and they could _go home_.

 

“What the HELL did you think you were doing?!” Cindy Highwind was screaming at her brother even as she wiped soot and blood from his face tenderly. “You FUCKING IDIOT! You could’ve DIED!”

 

Highwind was still coughing, trying to draw a breath and no doubt needing medical attention for the damage done by the impact and flames and smoke inhalation, but already the man was reaching for his pack of cigarettes. Zack wanted to laugh at the pilot’s incorrigible behavior. 

 

His brother-in-law lit the cigarette that trembling hands managed to place between lips, and as Highwind coughed some more while his sister yelled at him, Vikers was as calm and amused as ever as he asked the pilot what the hell he thought he was doing earlier, why he’d thought it’d be a good idea to jump into the fray with such a beat-up old plane. 

 

More coughing, then a voice wheezed: “I’m a pilot, Will. I belong in the air.”

 

“Well you ended up face-first in the fucking GROUND like a FUCKING ASSWIPE, LOSER!” Cindy Highwind was still crying, but she was laughing even as she yelled at her brother some more. 

 

_Siblings._

 

Zack had never had a sibling, but he understood the contradicting emotions they evoked - Lord knew he’d felt them plenty around Cloudy. 

 

Highwind was grinning, black and red streaked across his face like war paint as he sat casually on the ground propped up by his sister’s arms and his brother-in-law’s leg which he leaned against weakly. Vikers was shaking his head, stating that it’d still been a damned fool thing to do, but the pilot was as cocky and determined as ever as he responded: “I don’t want to regret not having done something later.” 

 

Zack had to admit, the man was pretty cool when he was sober. 

 

Then the pilot was looking over the wreckage and wincing as his sister frantically asked him where he was injured. He shook his head, angled his chin towards the remains of the plane and winced again. “Shit, kid’s gonna freak when he sees this.” 

 

Vikers laughed, and Highwind’s sister snorted, telling her brother he’d better start running. Then her husband said something to make Highwind’s eyes light up like a kid at Christmas: “It’s OK, Cid. We’ll help you fix it before he comes home.”

 

It seemed nothing pulled a family together better than a near-death experience. 

 

Highwind was grinning, then his sister chimed in thoughtfully. “Why don’t you make a smaller version as well for skirmishes and those damned stunts of yours? You know Ralph only made her so big so he could fly everyone to a better place.”

 

The blond pilot considered it for a second before his eyes lit up again. “Like a Tiny Bronco? Easy!”

 

A calm voice made Zack start and wonder why his friend was butting in to a family conversation again. Maybe he’d been spending too much time with Zack.

 

“May I remind you, Chief Aeronautical Engineer Highwind, that you have been tasked with building a rocket?” Sephiroth was as impassive as ever, but Zack could see his shoulders were less tense than they’d been when everyone believed Highwind dead.

 

Highwind snorted, mock-glared at the General - the man had serious balls - before cockily telling him: “I’m the best damn mechanic in the fucking world, you little punk.” There were gasps all around, Zack’s eyebrows had shot up at that - no one spoke to The Great Sephiroth that way! - but, when he chanced a look at his friend, the tell-tale tilt of thin lips and a sparkle in green eyes told him his commander was amused. “I can build a rocket AND a fleet of fucking planes at the same damned time.”

 

Then the pilot sobered, looking around at his family and fellow townspeople. “Well, if these guys help and if my little copilot’s here.” A grin. “But mostly if my little copilot’s here.”

 

Vikers and his wife were shaking their heads, townspeople were rolling their eyes and smiling. Then Cindy Highwind was speaking into a home-made walkie-talkie even as she stood and held a hand out to help her brother stand. “Shera, bring some rope to our coordinates. We gotta tow the Bronco back to Town.” 

 

The walkie buzzed and crackled, before a soft voice came through. “Right away, Ms Highwind."

 

Zack exhaled loudly, raising his arms high and stretching his back, groaning as he felt the soreness _everywhere_. 

 

It’d been a long week, and he couldn’t wait to get home.

 

Glancing at Sephiroth, he smiled to himself when he noticed green eyes were gazing in Midgar’s direction. No need to wonder why the General wanted to go home so badly. 

 

_Sephiroth and Cloudy sitting in a tree._

 

##

 

**\- Thursday. 1600 hours. -**

 

Ralph wondered if Uncle Cid was back in Rocket Town already. Ray had mentioned to him quietly that the deal had been made, that Rocket Town was getting fixed up, but the black-haired cadet wanted to hear it from his family. 

 

He wanted to know if they were OK. 

 

He hadn’t seen them since that day he’d left for Midgar - his parents hadn’t even been there when he’d snuck onto the transport hoping no one would realize until much later when they found his note - but Uncle Cid had somehow known, had charged out of his trailer yelling, and his parents had come running, his mother screaming for him not to leave for the front, his father stoic as ever but eyes pained and tears leaking from the darkness. 

 

He’d felt horrible for leaving like that, for not explaining his reasons better in his note, but he knew that if he’d told them the truth his parents and his uncle would drive headlong into Gang Territory and make Fast & Furious look like Child’s Play. 

 

Ralph didn’t want that. It was his fault - he alone should bear the consequences of his actions. That was what a real man did, after all. That was what Uncle Cid had done for ten years, what Uncle Cid was doing now. 

 

But Ralph really missed his family - the trailer / house hybrid that had been his home, the makeshift garage where he’d received his education in all things scientific and mechanical, the meals around the fire. Even if he built a walkie-talkie here, the signal wouldn’t reach Rocket Town. They didn’t have cellphones back home - none of them could afford it - and though they could easily build one for themselves they couldn’t get on the network without being charged. They were inventors and mechanics and engineers, not hackers. 

 

Though maybe Jared would be able to figure something out. Ralph recalled the blond being rather adept with computers and coding. 

 

He glanced at Jared, watched as the other boy slept brazenly on the table, saw how Ray was playing with his cellphone while Reno twiddled a pen looking lost in thought. He couldn’t really see Brian from this angle, but he could see Cloud - sandwiched between Ray and Reno - diligently taking notes for all of them to copy later. 

 

Sometimes he wondered if he’d even have stood a chance at SOLDIER without the smaller cadet. The physical aspects weren’t a problem for him - he’d grown up carrying scrap metal, melding panels, getting in gunfights, running for his life, fixing cars and bikes and building an airplane - but the academic side was a challenge. He was good at math and physics - could run all sorts of equations in his head easily - but everything else was Greek to him. Unless the Exams involved questions on the force of impact from Bike A crashing into Bike B at angle X, Speed Y and the wreckage ending up at Point Z; unless the Exams asked questions about the speed of a bullet upon entry into its target after being fired by a sniper from an M40 at X distance with wind blowing at Y speed in Z direction, he’d be in a difficult position. Or at least, that’s what he’d thought before - until Cloud’s little attitude adjustment had allowed him access to the blond’s notes and a remarkable intelligence matched with an incredible gift for explanation and tutoring. 

 

Ralph hadn’t really understood the point of any non-scientific history or tactics before - charging in guns blazing was the true Rocket Town way - but now, with Cloud’s and Ray’s help, he was beginning to understand. Subterfuge wasn’t his style, but it’d been necessary at points in time back home when he’d had to use his home-made sniper rifle to protect the town. And now, in Battle Sims at least, his sharp-shooting skills were being put to good use. 

 

He was proud of his way with guns - it reminded him of times spent with his parents and his brother and Uncle Cid growing up - when everyone had found it hilarious how Ralph could barely hold a gun in his childish hands, when his dad would place a Coke can barely five feet away and give Ralph a makeshift toy gun for him to play with under his older brother’s supervision while the adults worked on the Enterprise or on some new-fangled invention or other. He’d worked hard, practised religiously while his big brother kept encouraging him not to give up even as he’d sneakily moved the can further and further away, had beamed with pride when other Rocket Towners had told his parents that their son really took after them, had felt so happy wrapped in his mother’s arms as she’d told everyone that her baby was the best damned gunslinger in town. 

 

Then his ability with guns had become a real skill - a vital skill - that Rocket Town depended on. Ralph’s ability to make weapons out of anything, his aim - keen eyes and steady hands similar to his father’s - making him responsible for protecting the Town’s perimeters before he’d even learned to masturbate. He tried not to think of who it was who’d first taught him to hold a gun, to make a weapon.

 

He really missed his family. He hoped everything was going alright, couldn’t wait to make it to SOLDIER so he’d fulfil his end of the bargain and be able to make it home, even if only for a short break. While Ralph had originally planned on only qualifying for SOLDIER so he’d be able to head home immediately, he didn’t really feel like leaving the others so soon. It was a life he wasn’t familiar with, but he was enjoying it. Having friends, having people you could laugh and joke with and always rely on to have your back, having people who cared about you and wanted what was best for you even though they weren’t related to you by blood, it was all a new experience for him. In Rocket Town everyone had been focused on getting by - living hand-to-mouth and surviving assault after assault - that no one had had time to play games or just chat with one of the youngest residents of the Town. 

 

He liked it here. He liked being part of Team Fenrir - liked that the others appreciated his shooting (and dancing) skills, was thrilled that he could talk to people his own age, was ecstatic that he could talk to someone about a car without trying to figure out how to sell his latest invention For A Few Gil More.

 

But more than that he liked how it felt like he wasn’t alone anymore - like he wasn’t back in Rocket Town huddled under a camouflage blanket he’d stitched himself as a buffer against the cold while he kept watch at night; like he wasn’t sneaking off in total darkness with his home-made ride to earn some money at the Races; like he wasn’t creeping into the little underground workshop he’d built for himself with only the moon and stars to guide him as everyone slept. 

 

It reminded him of a time when his big brother never left his side, never allowed Ralph to feel alone or scared in the dark even as they played hide-n-seek in the Enterprise, never let anyone or anything hurt Ralph while he still breathed. 

 

Ralph never wanted to go through that pain again. He didn’t want to lose them - didn’t want to lose anyone ever again - so they all had to make it to SOLDIER (or the Turks) together, and they had to stick together no matter what. It was the only way they stood a chance at making it through to the end of the War, the only way they all really had a shot at going home alive and in one piece: together. 

 

Odd that a bunch of boys his age that he’d only met recently (with the exception of Jared) were becoming so important to him, but he wasn’t going to overthink it. He was a mechanic, an inventor - he focused on things he could fix, on what he could do. And right now, he really wanted to find a way to speak to his family back home.

 

He knew exactly what he’d say if his mother asked how things were going, if he’d made friends while in Midgar.

 

_I don’t have friends. I have family._

 

##

 

**\- Future. -**

 

Yuffie watched the colorful pattern on the wall shift and move, refractions of light from her window through the chandelier of Materia she’d hung above her temporarily. She was bored, and had no idea what to do while waiting for whatever it was would happen as a result of Cloud going back to the past.

 

Sometimes a lot of things didn’t quite make sense when it came to the blond man, but she wasn’t going to complain. Since he wasn’t around, she now had all the Materia in the world with her. At least, all the Materia that that mysterious thief hadn’t managed to steal from her. She’d catch whoever it was one day. How dare they pilfer from the Great Ninja Warrior and Lady of Wutai? 

 

She leaned back until she was resting on the tatami, staring vacantly up at the spinning make-shift chandelier as she tried not to think about what the changes would mean for her, for Wutai. She would never forget the shame her people had felt when they’d lost the War, when they’d had to turn their great city into nothing more than a tourist attraction in order to get by. Theirs was a land of mystique and honor and tradition - turned into a cheap commercial spot because of Shinra and SOLDIER.

 

Her mouth twisted. She recalled meeting that Zack man that Cloud and Aeris and Tifa knew, that Cloud reminded her of so often. She recalled meeting the General too - when Wutai had capitulated and her father had had to suffer through the indignity of publicly declaring their defeat and swearing loyalty to Shinra. She’d hated the silver-haired man, who represented Wutai’s failure and encapsulated Shinra’s cold cruelty all in one, but at the same time - though she’d never admit it - she’d been terrified of him. There was something weird about the man, something that her young instincts had warned her would spell doom for everyone, and it had taken every ounce of pride not to hide behind her father’s legs when glowing emeralds had locked on her temporarily. 

 

Then he’d become their target, their enemy - the enemy of the world. She’d never liked him, though her father seemed to have great respect for the General he’d known and fought, and the carnage and destruction the silver-haired man left in his wake every time he appeared was enough to cement her immense hatred of the man who’d masterminded Wutai’s downfall. 

 

She didn’t like that Cloud was in love with such an evil man, but she kept her opinions to herself because she knew that Vincent felt responsible for Sephiroth’s madness, and because everyone else seemed so…OK with it. She was the youngest of the bunch, and they teased her mercilessly about it, but that didn’t mean she was an idiot who didn’t understand how society worked - how friendship worked. 

 

A lot had gone over her head for years - she’d made some comments about Sephiroth before in front of Cloud, had been too immature to notice if she’d hurt him. Eventually, something in the way the others often tip-toed around mentions of the silver-haired man, especially around Cloud and Vincent, told her there was something going on. It’d been after dealing with Deepground that she’d found out by employing her amazing ninja skills. 

 

Well, it didn’t take a ninja to sneak up on those two drunk old men (Barrett and Cid) muttering about Cloud’s stupidity. 

 

The knowledge had shaken her to the core though - how could Cloud, her _friend_ , be in love with such a person? How _could_ he?

 

Not only was it weird for her friend - a _man_ \- to be in love with another man _,_ Sephiroth was _evil_. A monster. A murderer. 

 

She’d avoided Cloud after that, not trusting herself not to scream at him for betraying her, for betraying them all. 

 

_How could you? How COULD you?_

 

Red XIII had found her, curled up in the ruins of the old church. The intelligent creature had simply sat next to her, comfortable heat radiating from his furry body, as they watched petals float gently on the water. At length, her comrade spoke, soft and wise and kind as always. 

 

"We can’t help who we love, Yuffie,” he’d said simply, not even looking at her. “And Cloud’s hurting more than any of us because of it.”

 

She’d clenched her fists then, wanting to scream, to hit someone, to break bones and buildings. CLOUD was hurting? What about HER? What about Wutai? What about everyone who’d ever lost anything to Sephiroth?

 

Red XIII stretched, laying himself down, head on his front paws and casually continuing as though she wasn’t about to lose her tenuous control over her rage. 

 

“Cloud is our friend.” 

 

Those words pierced through the fog somehow, stilled her. She recalled wandering aimlessly when she’d been a teenager, trying to find some way to restore Wutai to its former glory, trying to find Materia that would help them somehow, always alone in her one-girl battle against the world, knowing the futility of her actions but wanting to do _something_ , anything.

 

Then Cloud had stumbled upon her in the wild, had followed her to get his Materia back in Wutai and accepted her back into their dysfunctional little group of World Saviors even after her thievery, had given her somewhere she belonged. It hadn’t been easy at first - the others were like nothing and no one she was used to - and they were either rude, teasing, brusque or guarded around her. But Aeris and Tifa had been kind, Cloud had been somewhat absent-minded but thoughtful, and slowly the others had warmed up to her, though she still butted heads with Barrett and Cid still bullied her about her air-sickness. 

 

Cloud had saved her life countless times, had never hesitated to protect her - even with his own body - had always listened with an indulgent half-smile to her boasting. He’d lost too - his family, his hometown, his friends, his sanity, his sense of self. And yet he’d never stopped trying to make the world a better place, never stopped trying to be a good friend to them all.

 

She still didn’t like who he was in love with. Why couldn’t he just marry Tifa and have babies like every other regular person?

 

Because he wasn’t a regular person. Regular people didn’t save the world time and time again, couldn’t do the incredible things Cloud always managed to pull off. 

 

She’d sighed, stretching her legs out beside Red XIII and leaning back on her palms. She wasn’t happy about it, but she did feel a little sorry for Cloud for having to spend the rest of his life pining after a dead man. Her chest twinged slightly at the thought of Cloud living out the rest of his days knowing he’d killed the man he loved twice. 

 

Cloud didn’t deserve that kind of pain or guilt. They had all suffered enough. Why couldn’t they all just be happy and live peacefully? 

 

She’d headed back to Seventh Heaven quietly, Red XIII beside her, unsure if she wanted to see Cloud and tell him he was her friend, no matter what, or tell him how stupid he was. She still hadn’t decided by the time she’d arrived at the bar, hands shaking slightly as she tried to hide them and hating how she was so nervous at the thought of seeing someone she trusted with her life. In the end, it hadn’t mattered - she’d entered the bar and only Tifa had been there, giving her that usual gentle smile, and Yuffie had wondered where Cloud was, if Tifa had heard from him.

 

She’d met him a few times after, when he came by for deliveries. She’d never broached the subject - wasn’t sure even now how she’d ever talk about it - but it didn’t bother her as much as it had back then. So what if they were both men? Yes, Sephiroth had been a horrible person, though that was Jenova’s and Shinra’s fault according to everyone else. At the end of the day, Cloud was her friend, and he deserved to be happy - just like the rest of them. 

 

Then the time travel thing had happened. She hadn’t believed it when they’d told her - thought it’d been another stupid prank they were pulling on her. But then she’d started noticing little things - like odd feelings of disorientation when she looked around Wutai, weird snippets of conversations between her father and other older Wutaians. It’d hit peak crazy when she’d met a blond ex-SOLDIER who’d seemed to know her, who’d seemed confused at _her_ confusion and told her he was Cloud’s friend and team mate back during the War, that they’d met many times before. 

 

She’d rushed to Seventh Heaven for Reeve’s lecture, suffering through the ride on the Shera because she couldn’t wait any longer for someone to tell her what was going on. After their little get-together, she’d taken the long way home, meandering through towns they’d visited as a team years before on their journey to stop Sephiroth, feeling out of place in a world that seemed to remember things so differently from her. 

 

What was she going to do until everything made sense again?

 

The Materia twirled above her, sparkling in the golden dusk. 

 

This was silly. She was the greatest ninja in the world, Mistress of Wutai, owner of the finest collection of magical orbs. She wasn’t going to sit around doing nothing. It didn’t matter if the past kept changing - the world would keep turning, just like her makeshift chandelier. 

 

Rising to her feet, she unhooked the pretty contraption from where she’d suspended it. Her scouts had mentioned something about Rufus Shinra possibly being up to no good as usual. Time to raise a little hell. After all, no one would remember it in a few days, right?

 

##

 

**\- Friday. 2030 hours. -**

 

Ray nodded as he slipped some gil to a bootlegger - ostensibly to pay for the bottles Ralph, Reno and Grant had helped cart off to the others, but more for getting his hand close enough to take the little slip of paper the man had hidden in his palm. 

 

He’d received the coded message from a burner phone while in class yesterday, had spoken to Reno and Ralph about heading down into the slums tonight. They’d agreed, but as usual they had to get Cloud’s final go/no-go. The blond had been easy enough to convince though, never being the type to deny anyone what they wanted. 

 

He slipped the piece of paper into his pocket casually - looking for all the world like he was just sauntering back to the others with a hand in his pocket, but in reality ensuring the message was hidden under the secret fold in his pants. He wouldn’t be able to read it until they reached the apartment, not trusting the perverts in the slums not to be peeking at strangers in bathrooms, not trusting Shinra and AVALANCHE not to be watching everyone’s moves down in the slums. 

 

He chatted easily with the others, tossing back his shots along with everyone else as they laughed about how some cadets had gotten themselves locked into a broom closet while trying to escape PT and had wound up being trapped in there for almost the entire day, playing his part and chattering mindlessly while his thoughts kept returning to the piece of paper in his pocket. He really wanted to read it, but he couldn’t whip it out right here and now in the middle of forty other cadets. 

 

His father had told him that he was far too impatient, too impulsive. His retort had been that it ran in the family, but even then he’d had to admit that his father was, for the most part, a man who could wait years before he took his revenge, all the while able to smile and call you a member of his Family. 

 

They continued the bar hopping, finding a dive bar with a cheap karaoke machine that had Ralph, Reno, Jared and some of the others yowling away to tinny renditions of Triumph, Kansas, Guns N’ Roses, AC/DC and Bon Jovi, while Cloud laughed and refused to participate. Eventually, the group of five broke off and headed to the apartment while other cadets headed back to the bunker or to other spots in the slums. Cloud was completely wasted, which wasn’t a surprise, given how exhausted the small blond had been all week. Ray suspected it had less to do with their new Crazy Bastards Training regimen and more to do with two SOLDIERs and the dark circles under baby blues. 

 

Somehow they managed to support the Nibelheim cadet to the apartment without falling over, Ralph barely getting the smaller boy to the bathroom in time for Cloud to empty his stomach into the commode. When the retching and heaving had stopped, Reno passed the blond a glass of water, waited for Cloud to slowly sip half the glass before carting him off to bed, dumping him unceremoniously on the covers before yanking his shoes off and tucking him in with great difficulty. None of their motor skills were up to par right now. Jared had collapsed on the bed next to Cloud and was spooning the smaller blond as Ralph suckered Reno into another poker game. The black-haired cadet could hold his liquor, and was just looking for a chance to drink more like the total lush he was. 

 

Ray wasn’t much better. He’d started on the whisky as soon as they’d gotten into the apartment. While Ralph and Reno drunkenly attempted to gamble, he slipped away to the bathroom and locked the door before pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket. 

 

He read it several times, frowning, before lighting up a cigarette and burning the paper, flushing the remains away.

 

Their alcohol stores had been razed in Wutai, their official agents thrown out and told never to return. Fortunately, their undercover operatives and smugglers were still in business, but this latest turn of events meant that the flow of information the family had access to was severely compromised since their people couldn’t walk around or ask questions freely. 

 

He wondered at the sudden aggressive treatment by Wutai, assumed it had something to do with the SOLDIERs’ latest mission but couldn’t see the connection beyond a retaliatory paranoia towards all “outsiders”. 

 

It was a knee-jerk response, nothing more than a leader needing to show frightened people under his care that he was serious about protecting them from the “enemy”. Not that a bunch of alcohol salespeople were enemies - the Johnson family was adept at playing both sides and wouldn’t jeopardize their commercial relationships in Wutai for political sentiment - but he understood that Godo had to show he meant business. And nothing proved that better than throwing non-natives out and strengthening your walls, it seemed.

 

A loud bang startled him and he nearly dropped the cigarette, whirling around drunkenly before Ralph’s alcohol-induced slurring made itself known. The black-haired boy was asking if he was jerking off all by his lonesome. 

 

_Wanker._

 

Grinning, Ray unlocked the door and shoved the other boy in the shoulder lightly as Ralph winked and offered his assistance. They traded insults back to the living room where Reno was pretending he hadn’t been dozing, and Ray joined in on the game. 

 

He’d think about Wutai later. For now, he wanted to wipe the cocky smirks off Reno’s and Ralph’s smug faces. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2155 hours. -**

 

Cloud was feeling much better, despite the hangover he’d had when he’d woken up. He’d slept well, waking up at close to three in the afternoon to the sounds of the others watching some show or other on the TV. The bed was comfortable, but the pounding headache and the smell of food drove him from the sheets and into the shower. He’d felt marginally better after, and the feeling improved with every bite of the tacos that had been delivered. Ray’s painkillers had definitely helped, and they’d settled into watching some movie about criminals turned saviors of their galaxy while drinking, leaving the apartment to wander out for dinner around eight. 

 

Now they were ambling through the slums as Jared wistfully wished they were at the premier of the sequel of the movie they’d watched earlier (Cloud had to admit that Baby Groot was more than a little adorable). Ray was laughing and telling them the bootlegged version would be available soon - was possibly making its rounds right now even as celebrities headed to Sector 8 for the grand premier. 

 

They wandered through the slums of Sector 8, right below where the ostentatious event was taking place above the Plate, and Cloud noted again the Plate’s function of dividing social classes in Midgar. He didn’t have time to dwell on it much, Ralph dragging them over to a stall selling weirdly colorful shots. It was after his third oddly delicious drink that he spotted a man who looked both familiar and not at all.

 

_Genesis clone._

 

He started at that thought. He’d never met Genesis himself, he was pretty sure, but he couldn’t remember if he’d ever encountered one of the redhead’s clones before. The memories were blurry, whispering through his mind like sand through fingers, and he still wasn’t 100% certain which memories were his and which were Zack’s. Reno caught him staring, turned in time to catch a glimpse of a profile before the man disappeared around a corner. 

 

Cloud was moving even before his redheaded friend could open his mouth to ask, something inside him pulling him towards the alley the man had disappeared into, not understanding this desire to follow - to see where he was going - but not able to stop himself after how much he’d had to drink. Reno was left with rounding up the others - Jared whining about wanting to try some weird pink drink first - then Cloud couldn’t hear his friends anymore as he turned into the alley and followed it blindly, an unintelligible voice in his head whispering that he had to find out what Genesis was up to, that he had to stop him before he hurt anyone else. He moved quickly, trying to keep the man in his sights as he dodged other pedestrians when they hit a larger alley filled with more stalls and people, turning and twisting in the maze below the Plate until eventually reaching an area that seemed rather familiar. 

 

If his memory served him right, the AVALANCHE he’d known had had its hideout somewhere in the vicinity. Or was it the current AVALANCHE’s hideout that was nearby? 

 

His head was spinning from the alcohol and the crowds, memories and emotions bubbling up within him and knocking his mind off balance. All he knew was that he had to follow the man, _had to find Genesis_ , so he kept going, wandering into alley after alley until they finally reached what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse. The man slipped in through an empty window pane, so Cloud counted to ten before following as covertly as possible, peeking around the rotting wooden frame in time to see a silhouette disappear up what looked like a shell of a staircase before clambering over, cursing himself mentally for how incredibly uncoordinated and klutzy he was. 

 

He managed to land softly - or maybe his sense of hearing was just weaker than usual thanks to the alcohol pumping through his system - and moved forward, wishing he had his Mako enhancements to back him up in the dark but at the same time knowing that the glow would have given him away. The debris and garbage that littered the place made footing uneven, presented multiple opportunities for Cloud to announce himself, and he had to be careful not to impale his feet on any syringes or nails. The neon lights shining in from streets nearby helped slightly, and his eyes were beginning to adjust somewhat by the time he reached the stairs he’d spotted the man climb earlier. He looked up, tried to see where the man could have gone, and spotted a slight glow several floors above him. 

 

The voices in his head were getting louder - a cacophony of warning and urgency - so he started up the stairs, having the presence of mind to reach for his butterfly knife and flick it open as silently as possible, holding it in an ice-pick style in front of him while inching forward cautiously and hating how vulnerable he was out in the open like this. Without his enhancements though, he couldn’t scale each floor the way he’d been able to do back in the future, so he had to ascend the old fashioned way. 

 

He’d barely made it up three flights of stairs before his instincts - still present but somewhat dulled by the alcohol - screamed at him to dodge, to duck, to _get out of the fucking way_ , and he did, jerking back ungracefully and dimly realizing that a sword had just sliced the front of his shirt, would have cut him in half if he hadn’t moved back. 

 

Then he realized that moving back on a staircase while drunk wasn’t the best idea, falling hard on his shoulder blades on the edge of a step - air whooshing from his lungs even as the pain made him see stars briefly - tumbling down and reaching out a hand to steady himself against nothing. Instincts took over then as he threw himself to the side somehow, rolling off the stairs and onto the first floor of the warehouse, rising to shaky feet and wishing the world would stop spinning. 

 

The sight of glowing Mako eyes rushing towards him snapped him out of his stupor somehow, and he dodged the swing of a sword, trying not to throw up from the sudden exertion while simultaneously trying not to get sliced in two or fall over the edge. The man was fast, was definitely SOLDIER level, and a voice inside was railing at Cloud for being such a fucking idiot for getting himself in trouble with a genetically-enhanced fighter while he was drunk, alone and _just a fucking cadet_ , but he shoved it out of the way as the sword narrowly missed the tip of his nose. 

 

Fine, he wasn’t the strongest or fastest (or most sober) of guys right now. And he was alone without the others to back him up. But he was Cloud Strife, and he had a sharp object in his hand. 

 

Ducking forward as the man swung back at him, crowding his space and thereby reducing his opponent’s range of motion with the sword, he feinted right - it worked, given the knife was in his right hand, and the man moved to Cloud’s left - before he dropped low, spun left then quickly stopped and twisted right, using his legs and the momentum to stab his knife directly into the man’s right kidney before twisting his body further - he really needed to stop that, he was _definitely_ going to puke now - and pulling his knife along until it slashed the man’s left kidney and exited his body with a sickening sound, the familiar stench of blood and organs somehow fuelling Cloud’s battle haze and dampening his alcohol-induced intoxication. 

 

He’d learned the hard way never to assume he’d taken someone out until their head was loped off and every part of the individual or monster or alien was burned to a crisp, so even as the man collapsed like a grotesque marionette with its strings cut Cloud was already moving forward, knife stabbing directly into a glowing eye and twisting even as the man made an aborted sound. 

 

When the figure collapsed to the ground, warmth from its body soaking Cloud’s shirt slightly and pooling around his shoes, he was suddenly aware of the fact that he’d imbibed far too many drinks and that he wasn’t genetically-enhanced. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he struggled to keep upright, willed himself not to throw up, before instincts were screaming at him again to turn around, fight, r _un for your fucking life you fucking idiot_ , and he turned in time to see Mako eyes far too close for comfort, before a sharp pain - not unfamiliar - pierced through him and he cried out as his vision darkened. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2245 hours. -**

 

_No rest for the wicked._

 

Sephiroth and Zack were rushing through the slums, trying to keep out of sight - because it was never a good idea for slum residents to see the General and the Brigadier General fully armed and on a mission - while heading to where the Turks’ informants had spotted several Genesis clones. 

 

They’d only just arrived in Midgar, the journey from Rocket Town to Del Sol to Junon to Midgar fortunately allowing them some reprieve while in the helos, and had been airborne about to land on base when news reached of AVALANCHE attacking the Sector 8 reactor while Genesis clones had been spotted _en masse_ below the Plate.

 

The fallout from an attack on the reactor would be heightened tonight, given it was premiere night for a major movie that had been heavily promoted and highly anticipated, fans and media and celebrities filling Sector 8’s glittering streets.

 

The Turks were unsure about what the clones were planning below the Plate, had split their team between taking on AVALANCHE in the reactor, sending agents to the movie premiere to prepare to evacuate key individuals whom the President deemed worthy of protection, and sending agents to the slums to tail the clones and attempt to collect intel.

 

Sephiroth had dispatched two Firsts and three Seconds - who were relatively unscathed from the mission in Wutai and the subsequent fight for Rocket Town - to the reactor to back the Turks up. Apart from the sixty-four who had died at Wutai’s Gate, another seventy-three grunts, twenty-four Thirds, nine Seconds, and one First had been badly injured at Wutai and Rocket Town, while Sephiroth, Zack and the remaining seventy-one grunts, four Thirds, seventeen Seconds and thirteen other Firsts had survived with somewhat minor injuries. 

 

He wasn’t the kind of man to put all his eggs in one basket though, so he’d ordered the remaining eleven Firsts, fourteen Seconds, four Thirds and the grunts to head back to base and await further instructions. The Turks weren’t incompetent - Tseng himself was part of the team heading into the reactor - so sending a larger SOLDIER team was unnecessary and would be deemed an insult. 

 

As for the mission under the Plate, it would be overkill to have anyone accompany the General and the Brigadier General just to deal with Genesis clones. 

 

So here they were, leaping from roof to roof, scaling haphazardly built structures and dodging wires and cables and mangy strays in an attempt to reach the warehouse the Turks had seen several clones enter. 

 

His foot slipped slightly on some sort of slime, though he caught himself quickly and continued. Inwardly he cursed at the stumble - so unlike him - but he was still tired from a full week of fighting, followed by extended periods of waiting for transports, securing Rocket Town’s defences, and being made to deal with Scarlet at the Junon base before returning to Midgar. His almost-jaunt to Nibelheim hadn’t helped matters - he’d been partway up the track when Vikers had caught up with him on a dirt bike and informed him that Wutai had returned with a small, heavily-armed contingent of suicide fighters who were being held off by Zack and the remaining SOLDIERs and grunts. 

 

Something still called him towards Nibelheim though - he wasn’t sure if it was curiosity about where Cloud had grown up or something else that seemed to whisper insidiously within him - but the urgency in Vikers’ tone and the constant revving of the bike had shaken the hold of whatever it was, and he’d hopped on the back of the home-made ride as Vikers somehow got them to Rocket Town without them falling off the trail. 

 

His communicator buzzed - SOLDIERs waiting at the helipad above the Plate had passed the ear pieces to him and Zack before the pair dashed off - and Tseng’s familiar voice came through. 

 

“Secure line. Cadet of interest spotted entering warehouse.”

 

There was only one cadet of interest they had in common, and beside him Zack started slightly, nearly slipping off the rickety wooden slats they were attempting to cross. 

 

Why was Cloud going to meet a Genesis clone?

 

Was that it? Was that how the boy had become so capable so quickly? Was he working with Genesis or Hollander?

 

_No, never._

 

Somehow Sephiroth knew with absolute certainty that Cloud wasn’t in league with Genesis. He didn’t know how, but the little blond had nothing of Genesis’ ‘taint'. The redhead had been one of his very first friends, had been one of the only friends he’d ever had, but after he’d changed there had been an air about him and around all those who had flocked to him that was distinct and discernible to someone who’d spent a long time chasing them down. 

 

Cloud would never work with Genesis, of that Sephiroth was absolutely sure. He didn’t like not being able to logically explain it, attributed it to the growing bias he had for the small cadet and wasn’t sure how he felt about it. 

 

He’d deal with his emotions later. They were attempting to cross a wide intersection and had to rely on the cables they were holding on to not to give out and give them away.

 

“Copy,” was all he murmured softly as he tapped lightly on the earpiece before returning his hand to the cable. Tseng’s choice of using a secure line indicated that he’d told his Turks to forget they’d seen Cloud. The Turks were a loyal, tight-knit bunch, with a camaraderie and solidarity to rival SOLDIER’s. Sephiroth knew no mention of Cloud being near Genesis clones would ever reach anyone else in Shinra. 

 

Another favor he owed Tseng, in their endless game of one-uppance. Sephiroth wasn’t sure what the score was - Tseng was an exceptional Turk who never gave anything away, and though the General was intellectually superior and played his cards well who knew what went on behind those dark eyes. 

 

He upped his pace once they’d reached the other side of the intersection, moving with more urgency than before. Cloud might have been extremely skilled, but he was only a cadet. And - since it was late on a Saturday night - the boy was probably intoxicated and had followed the clone out of drunken curiosity, or had possibly gotten lost. That was probably it, though _why_ the cadet had been curious about a Genesis clone Sephiroth could only wonder about for now. 

 

Another thought struck him. Where was Cloud's usual posse that never let him out of their sights?

 

As if on cue, his keen ears picked up the familiar voice of the Johnson boy cursing at the redhead for not informing them sooner. It seemed they had lost track of Cloud in the crowd of the slums - the blond _was_ rather petite - and were attempting to find him without being too obvious. He peered down, saw the foursome moving briskly further up the alley, noted the somewhat unsteady gaits. 

 

He still wasn’t in favor of underaged drinking (even though he himself had partaken in it, and it was common knowledge that everyone drank heavily on base - even the cadets), but he had to admit he was somewhat relieved to note that even inebriated the cadets were still looking out for Cloud. Though he was a little irritated that they had lost their leader in the first place. Clearly they needed more training - no SOLDIER ever ’temporarily misplaced' his commanding officer, two words the blond cadet was using to describe their current situation in an apparent attempt to calm the others. 

 

Turning slightly, the sliver-haired man signalled Zack wordlessly and the First nodded, dropping down silently into the alley in front of the cadets. Sephiroth didn’t stop, but he heard the cadets’ surprised reactions clearly as he darted forward, heading to where the Turks were waiting for him. Zack would deal with the cadets - either sending them back to their bunker or getting them to follow him at a safe distance without explaining anything, and the boys would be told to keep this quiet for their futures in the cadet program. 

 

Though knowing Zack, no matter how pressing the situation, he’d find a way to charm and convince them into doing as he wanted somehow without ever resorting to threats or violence.

 

He dropped stealthily before the two hidden suits, noted their Turk training hadn’t prepared them for a sudden appearance by the General in a dark alley in the slums, but acknowledged their reflexes and self-control when their hands stopped en route to their weapons as soon as they recognized him. 

 

Saluting, they pointed towards the warehouse up ahead, before he dismissed them, watching them disappear into the shadows before turning and heading towards the derelict building. His nerves were on edge, his heart was beating faster than usual, and he couldn’t chalk it up to the exertion. 

 

This feeling was alien, raw, new. And he didn’t like it. 

 

He leapt easily through an empty window pane, spotted glowing Mako eyes and a flash of steel, heard Cloud cry out, and then realized he was standing on the first floor holding a small, shaking body as the clone fell to the ground in pieces. Sephiroth saw a disemboweled clone nearby that was no doubt Cloud’s handiwork, could hear more clones coming from above, knew he had to investigate what they were up to, but his attention was held by the sword that had pierced through a thin chest, dark bloom spread across Cloud’s thin shirt even as the boy struggled to remain conscious from the pain and blood loss. He didn’t have time to use Scan, didn’t have the time to remove the sword gently, and even though he knew from experience and knowledge of the human anatomy that the blade hadn’t hit any vital organs or bones, the surge of rage that flooded through him blanketed his mind as he turned and sliced two clones in half with the viciousness and bloodlust he hadn’t thought possible. As more clones rushed towards him, he tightened his grip on the small blond, trying not to jar the blade that still impaled him, saw glassy baby blues peer up at him and flash in recognition, before he turned his attention back to the clones coming towards him and the blond all at once. 

 

_How DARE they?_

 

NO ONE hurt Cloud. With that thought, he leapt forward, mindful of the precious cargo held by his right arm, hacking and slashing with ease until a muffled gasp startled him enough to look down and worry that he’d jostled the sword in the boy, and saw that the blond - in a move that had Sephiroth’s curiosity and respect sky-rocketing - was pulling the blade out of himself with gritted teeth. 

 

The little cadet was clearly a fighter, was obviously someone for whom pain was too familiar a friend. 

 

He had to get him to safety. 

 

That thought consumed him, and he turned back towards the clones, piercing two through before throwing them down to the ground floor with a harsh swing of the Masamune - the clones sliding off its thin edge like slippery dumplings off Zack’s chopsticks - before a sudden movement along his right arm and a muted cry surprised him enough to look towards Cloud, just in time to catch the flash of a sword slicing through the air and slitting a clone in the neck, arterial spray hitting both the blond and himself. Sephiroth wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse himself for not noticing the clone’s approach, or applaud Cloud’s ability to hold his own with a sword he’d just pulled out of his upper chest. 

 

Turning towards the remaining clones, he saw them rushing up the stairs, tucked the blond cadet more securely against himself - quietly asking the boy to try to hold on and feeling more than hearing the murmured assent - before leaping up gracefully, bounding from platform to platform with ease. He didn’t have the luxury of taking the stairs the old fashioned way, not with Cloud requiring urgent medical attention, not with the clones obviously rushing to flee with whatever it was they had in the floors above. 

 

He reached them in time to see the clones attempting to set fire to some documents and a computer while another had picked up a case and was running, trying to head to a window to escape but barely making several steps towards it before being cut down by Sephiroth. He felt a familiar presence, turned to see Zack taking down the remaining clones and attempting to use their bodies to put out the flames by depriving the fire of oxygen quickly, scanned the rest of the building - lit with neon lights from the slums - with his enhanced sight and hearing. He couldn’t pick up any other traces of people - clones or otherwise - beyond the three of them, as Zack stomped out the last of the flames before moving hurriedly towards him, reaching an arm out for Cloud, worry plain on his face. 

 

Sephiroth wasn’t sure why he did it, but he tightened his grip on the blond and moved him slightly back - as though to put distance between the boy and Zack - saw his second-in-command stop in surprise, dark blue glow flicking up to Sephiroth’s green as a flash of hurt was replaced by a knowing look that meant they would definitely be training on Monday. Or Tuesday. 

 

A slight tilt to familiar lips, and a soft, easy voice filled the air. “I’ll clean up here and deal with the boys. You get him patched up.” Before Sephiroth could respond or even process how ridiculous it was for a Brigadier General to be telling the General what to do, the dark-haired man was continuing, this time his words directed at a rapidly cooling body held against Sephiroth’s chest. “Sorry we’re late, kiddo. You did good. Seph’ll take care of you now, okay?”

 

Then deep blue eyes were locked on his again, and suddenly there was the Zack Fair who had sped through the ranks of SOLDIER and terrorized their enemies. The dark-haired First didn’t speak, didn’t need to say a word. They both knew - Sephiroth was responsible for Cloud’s well-being, and Zack would never forgive him if the boy didn’t make it. He nodded, turning and leaping down to the ground floor while sheathing Masamune and readjusting the body in his arms, calling forth a Cure spell even as his feet touched the ground for a split second before he was off - leaping nimbly through the window he’d entered the building via, darting to the alley where Cloud’s friends were hiding wide-eyed before bounding on to the wall and dashing along it with cat-like grace even as another Cure spell was hitting a small body. He had to save Cloud. He couldn’t let the blond die. 

 

Unbidden, a voice whispered. _Everyone dies._

 

He tightened his grip, dashing towards the secret passage that only SOLDIERs and Turks knew of or used to move between the upper and lower zones, pushing the thought from his mind. 

 

He didn’t want to think about it. Death came for all men, he knew. But he didn’t want to consider the fact that the blond would be taken from him, before he’d even gotten a chance to…

 

_To what?_

 

He grit his teeth, shoved the thought from his head as he called forth another Cure spell, feeling the effects of more than a week of missions and fighting with little time for recovery. It’d been his fault for running the mission and scenarios through his head again and again when he should have been sleeping, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering 'what if’, from wishing it’d gone differently and less of their own had fallen. The memory of encountering a lone Genesis clone in Wutai had eaten at him as well - what was Genesis up to? Why was his clone in Wutai dressed as a Wutaian but clearly standing out from local soldiers with his choice of weapon?

 

He’d queried the rest of the infiltration team on Sunday while they’d been waiting for the helos, and none of them had noticed any Genesis clones within Wutai, which had made Sephiroth wonder why only one clone had been sent in (if that was truly the case), and why said clone had engaged him under the bridge. Surely even a clone would know better than to do that.

 

A familiar voice was in his ear, Zack informing Tseng via the open SOLDIER-Turk channel that their situation had been dealt with. It was normal for Sephiroth not to respond on these channels, so no one would be any the wiser. It was also Zack’s way of informing Sephiroth that all traces of Cloud and the blond’s friends had been removed from the warehouse and the vicinity. 

 

Perhaps they wouldn’t train this coming week then.

 

Cloud shifted slightly in his arms, wincing and gasping slightly. The spells had stemmed the blood flow, but the blond wasn’t out of the woods yet.

 

Tseng’s voice came through the earpiece. The reactor was secure, AVALANCHE had been dealt with as well, with no losses on Shinra’s end save for a few injured Turks. Sephiroth couldn’t deny he was relieved to know his men hadn’t been hurt or killed. 

 

_Sixty-four._

 

Too many had died on this past mission, in the War against Wutai, in the battles with AVALANCHE and Genesis. Cloud wasn’t going to be another statistic, another name on an ever-growing casualty list. Not today. 

 

The entrance to the hidden passage was up ahead, masked by clever camouflage and impossible for anyone who wasn’t genetically-enhanced and informed of its exact location (and how to navigate it) to find, reach or use. It’d been built covertly after Genesis had defected, the previous secret entrance to the slums laced with traps and sensors, but Sephiroth wasn’t going to think about who they wanted to trap now. 

 

_Almost there._

 

They’d make it. Cloud would be alright, Sephiroth would make sure of it.

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2320 hours. -**

 

Reno was quiet on the way to the apartment with the others, all of them were. It’d been an eventful night.

 

He recalled his shock at seeing the General dashing from the building with a bloodied body in his arms, remembered the look in glowing green eyes even as he saw the spell being cast on Cloud as the silver-haired man leapt deftly up onto a wall and continued running without missing a beat. He knew what that pallor on his friend’s face meant, knew from the way the SOLDIER was rushing that Cloud had been hurt badly. 

 

He hadn’t felt so helpless, so useless, in a long time. Cloud was his friend, and he hadn’t been there to help, had lost sight of the small blond in the slums - _his_ territory - and had had to hide in a dark alley wringing his hands like a damn ninny for several agonizing minutes before the General had leapt out of an empty window cradling a small body to his chest. 

 

The redhead had stood there, stock still and silent like the others, staring after the pair, before soft whistling had him spinning back around towards the warehouse to see the Brigadier General strolling casually towards them playing with a familiar butterfly knife. 

 

Reno knew that balisong. Had gotten it for Cloud for free. So the blond had dropped it somehow, but Reno was a little gratified to see it was covered in blood. Cloud wasn’t stupid enough to stab himself with it, had obviously dealt some damage before he’d been taken down. 

 

_But you’re just a cadet, you fucking idiot._

 

Why couldn’t the blond have some common sense and not rush off on his own to get into fights when he was just a tiny drunk? 

 

Then again, Cloud tended to like getting into fights with people above his level. Reno supposed the other boy was just a sucker for punishment. Somehow the memory of seeing a bloodied frail body prevented the usual hormonal reaction to that thought. 

 

The dark-haired First had wiped the blood off with a rag he’d found, tossing the used cloth aside and casually setting it on fire before turning to the four of them. The SOLDIER had been far too casual, far too perky, for someone who’d just killed a bunch of people (or so Reno assumed, judging by the fact that no one was coming at them from the warehouse). He chalked it up to standard-issue SOLDIER insanity.

 

The Brigadier General had dismissed them - telling them not to worry about Cloud, that he and the General would take care of the blond and get him back to the bunker tomorrow night - before leaping onto the wall and running off just like the silver-haired man had earlier. Reno supposed he should feel flattered that the SOLDIER hadn’t had to threaten them or make clear that they had to keep their mouths shut about everything that had happened. Clearly the First knew they were smart enough to stay silent for their own good. 

 

Somehow, the memory of the urgency in the General’s movements, the memory of the look in green eyes, made him wonder if Shinra knew about the silver-haired SOLDIER’s feelings. It’d be just the kind of thing they’d love to know, to hold over the General and the blond cadet. 

 

Reno would never allow it. Not even the Turks, not even Verdot, would know about it if he had his way. Verdot might have saved him, given him a new lease on life back then, but Cloud was his friend. They weren’t related by blood, but down in the slums it was more about the family you chose than the family you were born to.

 

They reached the apartment, heading in and locking the door, then Jared was on him, the blond seeming to need the familiar comfort of rough sex after everything they’d seen. Reno was happy to oblige - his thoughts were in a whirl, his emotions were screwy, and he just wanted sweet oblivion right now. Seeing so much blood on such a pale, small body brought back too many memories.

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2325 hours. -**

 

Cloud hadn’t felt so disoriented in a long time. He supposed his stab wound played a factor (though he’d been stabbed so many times before that this was really nothing to write home about), along with the alcohol that should have spilled from his body by now - a thought he found rather fascinating. He also assumed he hadn’t helped matters by aggravating his injury - removing the sword because he hated being impaled, it brought back too many disturbing memories - and trying to help Sephiroth by first taking down a man who’d been sneaking up on them, then holding on to a warm neck and smooth silver mane, attempting to stay as still as possible while the General had battled more men with glowing eyes.

 

Now they were in some sort of tunnel - it wasn’t very wide or tall, so Sephiroth was having to crouch slightly while carrying Cloud as gently as possible, racing through or upwards or maybe forwards and upwards with sure steps. The blond cracked open blue eyes and shut them quickly, the weird lights that flashed past and the glow of green eyes making his already blurry vision hurt. He curled further in to the warmth that radiated from his left, inhaled the familiar scent of blood, sweat and something distinctly Sephiroth, before a low, urgent voice - rumbling pleasantly through a toned chest into Cloud’s bones - told him they were barely ten minutes away from the base, and asked him to stay awake. 

 

But he was tired, and the world was spinning and heaving and light and fluffy and heavy.

 

He felt his body shift, dimly registered the tightening of the strong hands on him, before a well-modulated, dulcet tone told him to open his eyes and _focus on me_. 

 

He knew that voice. Or did he? It sounded like the same person who’d said and done cruel, horrible things to him before, who’d broken his heart again and again, taken an angel from the world.

 

But it also sounded like the voice of someone he loved beyond measure, someone with whom he'd played poker and watched TV all night, someone he’d almost kissed, someone who looked forward to welcoming Cloud to SOLDIER. 

 

_SOLDIER._

 

His eyes opened somehow, and he squinted, panting from the simple effort of looking at someone, trying to recognize who it was whose face was so close to his and yet feeling like he’d recognize that face anywhere.

 

_I know your face._

 

Memories flashed - fire, hatred, pain, tears, being impaled on a long, thin sword, watching Zack and Aeris die, slicing the man he loved to pieces again and again. 

 

The man he loved.

 

_Sephiroth._

 

Blinking away the haze that swarmed his vision, he realized dimly that glowing green eyes held an unfamiliar emotion - it almost seemed like the worry and fear that was always present in Tifa’s eyes when she was pretending not to be too concerned over his multiple injuries - as they glanced down at him intermittently even as the flashes of light continued to pulse in the background.

 

Sephiroth was carrying him to safety. Had rescued him from those men in the warehouse with their identical faces and eerily similar glowing eyes. 

 

_Clones._

 

He hated clones. Hated anyone who was attempting to clone another person, attempting to turn a living, breathing individual into nothing more than a copy of someone else. 

 

 _Genesis clones_ , a voice whispered in his head, soft and fleeting.

 

He didn’t have the energy to wonder at how he seemed to know that with absolute certainty, focusing every last ounce of willpower on remaining awake as Sephiroth had asked. He didn’t want to disappoint the silver-haired man, not when he was being cradled almost tenderly against a broad, leather-clad chest as the General raced them to…somewhere.  

 

It was so comfortable, almost dream-like, and Cloud wondered what would happen if he chose to stay in this dream forever, if he never woke up in the real world.

 

A smooth voice filled his head, quiet yet amused. “This isn’t a dream, Cloud.”

 

_Oh. Did I say that aloud?_

 

There was levity in low tones as warm green eyes - so very different from the cold glowing emeralds he was used to - locked with his baby blues before flicking away to focus on where they were headed. “Yes, you did.”

 

_Bollocks._

 

This time he was met with a soft chuckle, but before he had the chance to process the fact that this small laugh had no traces of sinister or malicious intent, held nothing more than pure amusement and something remarkably like affection and relief rolled into one, he was shifted against a strong chest and told to stay as silent and still as possible. They would be exiting the tunnel not far from the base, and would be sneaking in to Sephiroth’s apartment to avoid any questions being asked about Cloud.

 

His mind stopped processing anything more when he heard they were going to Sephiroth’s apartment. Just the two of them. To where Sephiroth lived.

 

To where he slept.

 

The world spun dramatically even as the path became darker and cooler. Eventually they exited the tunnel and Sephiroth turned and dipped slightly - Cloud distantly registered the sounds of rustling and the clanging of metal on metal - then lights from the base were blinding him and blurring into one, even as Cloud’s mind remained focused on only one thing: Sephiroth was taking him to his apartment. 

 

He didn’t remember anything about the journey to the Alpha Tower beyond the fact that they were going to Sephiroth’s apartment. 

 

##

 

**\- Saturday. 2340 hours. -**

 

Sephiroth mused briefly that base security really needed to up their game, before he focused again on Cloud, moving to put the boy on the couch - he’d deal with the mess later - before hurriedly unbuttoning a sticky shirt after checking for a concussion. He usually ripped offending pieces of clothing off himself or Zack when there was an urgent wound to deal with, but he didn’t want to jar Cloud’s wound or hurt the boy by being too rough. He was so small, had lost so much blood already, had held on and even fought back despite his injury. He didn’t need anymore pain.

 

The buttonholes were too tight, the slippery small discs weren’t cooperating - Cloud's blood making the plastic slick, his own gloves making him fumble and he impatiently bit a finger on one, pulling it off before doing the same to the glove on his other hand then returning to his task. When the shirt was unbuttoned, he carefully peeled it from a sticky chest, eyes widening then narrowing at the gash on the boy’s upper torso - an inch to the left and the boy would have died from traumatic pneumothorax or the blood that would have filled his lung from the stab wound. As it was, the gash was placed between the boy’s shoulder, clavicle, right arm and right lung - miraculously missing bones and organs. Either the clone had missed, or Cloud had dodged in time. Sephiroth suspected it was the latter.

 

He heard the blond hiss as he probed carefully at the wound, glancing up to see pained blue eyes peering at him. His hand stilled when a soft voice - tinged with a sweet, alcohol scent - reached him. “I’m OK, Sephiroth.”

 

_Sephiroth._

 

Cloud had called him by his name, and, as the silver-haired man’s dreams had insinuated, it sounded better than when anyone else had ever said it. 

 

He wasn’t sure what expression he was making, but somehow it had baby blue eyes widening slightly as the boy somehow found enough blood to flush lightly. Blinking, the General stood from where he had been kneeling next to the sofa, giving Cloud a small reassuring smile as brilliant sapphires turned worried and afraid - Cloud never needed to fear _him_ \- as he grabbed cushions and the cashmere throw to make the boy more comfortable. He’d noticed the shivers, knew the blond needed to be kept warm. Once he’d settled Cloud in, he murmured softly at the boy not to move or fall asleep before heading to grab his stash of potions and the First Aid Kit. His spells had done what they could - the boy needed to regenerate internally, would remain weak from the blood loss. He wondered how he’d get Services to bring some food up without them spotting the blond. If Zack was here he’d tell the First to order it then carry it upstairs to avoid suspicion. 

 

That was odd. Zack was usually there whenever Sephiroth needed him (except when it came to paperwork), usually always at his side even before Sephiroth realized he’d need the dark-haired First. It couldn’t be taking him that long to head back to base. Had something happened? Had he been ambushed?

 

Impossible. Zack was too good to be taken down so easily.

 

_But he’s tired._

 

They all were. But Sephiroth refused to consider that his friend was weak enough in his exhaustion that he’d be easy prey. No, Zack was more likely wandering around flirting or drinking or eating. _That_ sounded more like the First Sephiroth knew.

 

He’d take care of Cloud first, and if he heard no word from Zack by the time he was done, he’d go looking for the other SOLDIER. They didn’t have their cellphones with them - Sephiroth’s was still locked in his safe, while Zack’s was likely somewhere in the mess of his apartment - so he couldn’t call him. And he didn’t want to use the communicators they had to check in on Zack - it’d seem too out of character for him, and be an insult to Zack if anyone on the airwave heard. 

 

Returning to the sofa after washing his hands thoroughly, he saw Cloud blinking drowsily at him as he set the First Aid Kit and potions down on the coffee table before reaching out to gently bring the cadet into a sitting position. He frowned slightly at a tousled, matted blond head - the Nibelheim cadet was far too light for his age, far too delicate for someone trying for SOLDIER and taking on Genesis clones alone in the dark - before a slight hiss stopped him. He perched on the edge of the sofa, peeled the bloody shirt off completely, softly urging the blond not to move even as the stubborn cadet tried to help slide his arms out of his sleeves, before the fabric was tossed aside and Sephiroth was inspecting a lithe, pale back. He frowned again when he noticed the large, mottled bruise and little cuts along Cloud's upper back in a pattern that indicated the boy had fallen down the stairs earlier. Nothing Materia couldn’t fix, but he needed to be sure there weren’t any shards or debris trapped in the minor wounds. 

 

He looked at a pale, sweaty face, felt each alcohol-tinged breath and saw pained yet clear blue eyes, perfect pink lips set in a determined line as a soft voice told him to “go ahead” and he nodded, reaching for the First Aid Kit, opening it and placing it on the arm rest before propping the boy against him - front to front - trying to ignore how good it felt to hold the blond in his arms. Grabbing a small pair of tweezers - vital for SOLDIERs who often had pieces of shrapnel or glass stuck in their bodies after a skirmish - he focused on inspecting each tiny wound carefully, poking and probing as gently as possible, feeling the tensing of a small body with each bit of pressure applied on or near bruised shoulder blades and admiring how the boy was forcing himself to relax each time in order to help expedite the process. 

 

Cloud was stronger mentally than many SOLDIERs were physically. Though the blond’s defeat at the hands of a clone was no surprise - not only was the cadet without genetic enhancements, he was on the small side of other boys his age, and he’d been drunk - but the fact that the boy had managed to take down one clone before Sephiroth arrived then taken down another that had attempted to sneak up on them was nothing short of incredible. With genetic enhancements, there was likely very little the blond wouldn’t be able to do once his body was able to match that remarkable force of will and mental strength. 

 

When he was satisfied the wounds were free of debris and contaminants, he gave the blond’s upper back a quick saline flush before dabbing the moisture away with a sterile pad as gently as possible. He didn’t miss how a thin arm was wound partly around his waist, small hand gripping his leather coat tight even as the blond didn’t move a muscle in his right arm. He was loathe to move back and dislodge the forearm resting against his side, so he cast another Cure spell, watched as the angry bruises faded and cuts sealed themselves shut slowly, given the blond’s lack of Mako enhancements to facilitate the healing. Once done, he pulled back but kept an arm around Cloud’s waist to hold him up, reaching across to the coffee table to deposit the First Aid Kit and grab a bottle, uncapping it and urging the cadet to drink slowly. He tried to ignore what the sight of long eyelashes resting on high cheekbones, a pretty face tilted back and lips on the bottle as the blond swallowed again and again did to him, forced himself to focus on making sure he didn’t spill any of the potion while watching the chest wound for signs of healing or bleeding. 

 

The potion finished, he helped Cloud lay back down while he sat on the floor in order to be eye-level with the chest wound. Too many healing spells cast on a non-enhanced body was deadly, according to their scientists. And Sephiroth had already cast four in the space of an hour. He wasn’t sure if the Advisory Note from the Science Division was true, wasn’t sure how accurate the assessment was or if this was Shinra’s way of ensuring that their Medical Division remained in business while keeping the masses from being able to cure themselves and therefore deprive Shinra of sales of pharmaceuticals, but he didn’t want to risk it with Cloud. The Note had said that non-enhanced could only tolerate, on average, three healing spells in a span of twenty-four hours, four healing spells at the very most. While the term ‘average’ meant some would be able to tolerate more, Sephiroth was wary of making such assumptions with the tiny blond as a guinea pig. He’d need to clean and stitch the wound the old fashioned way before bandaging the boy. It would hurt though, and he glanced at half-open eyes, saw the clarity and stubbornness that shone through despite the haze of pain and alcohol. Cloud nodded, demonstrating that uncanny understanding of his, and Sephiroth turned to grab the First Aid Kit, holding out a thick gauze pad for Cloud to bite on, wanting to smirk at the flash in baby blues that indicated the boy had taken offense to being coddled. 

 

The cadet was definitely tough. And ridiculously stubborn - a quality that should concern Sephiroth as General of SOLDIER but which only made him more intrigued, more…proud of how strong-willed the blond was. A little voice whispered insidiously that that would just make it more fun to break him, and he shoved it aside forcefully. No one was going to break anyone. 

 

Though he didn’t deny enjoying seeing this side of the blond. Those first two times at Zack’s they’d barely spoken - the cadet always reserved and formal even as a pretty face turned bright red again and again. Yet now it seemed they were on a first name basis - though that was likely a side-effect of the boy’s injuries and blood loss and inebriation - and a resolute will bordering on headstrong was shining through. Sephiroth had noticed the blond’s self control, his calm authority over others, his assuredness in combat - but for the cadet to follow a Genesis clone into a dark warehouse on his own, to continue trying to fight even when injured, spoke either to an independent, almost obstinate temperament, or someone who generally made poor decisions. 

 

He didn’t think Cloud was in the latter category, but he also wasn’t sure why Cloud had been following a Genesis clone. He needed answers.

 

He threaded the sterile needle with dissolvable suture, gave Cloud one last look - _are you ready?_ \- waited for the answering nod then quickly flushed the wound with saline before dabbing it dry, not missing the way blue eyes shut tightly for a second before opening again to watch him, then his needle pierced pale skin and he thought to himself that this was one way of leaving his mark on Cloud. 

 

Though he tried to be as gentle as possible with the needle and with the way he dabbed at blood that continued to leak from the wound, he didn’t miss the way the blond’s breaths came harder and faster despite the cadet’s best attempts at regulating them, didn’t miss the way a small left fist opened and closed involuntarily with each prick of the skin and pull of the needle through man-made holes. He glanced at shadowed blue eyes, saw the pain in them that made him want to stop immediately, and realized he must have stilled because a soft, strained voice was urging him to continue, assuring him that Cloud was fine, that he could take it, that it was alright. Nodding, he continued, trying to be gentle but also trying to end the torment as quickly as possible. 

 

The fact that he started speaking to distract himself he attributed to too much time spent with Zack.

 

“What were you doing there?” His keen eyes didn’t miss how Cloud’s entire body tensed slightly, flicked up to see quick flashes of fear, panic, confusion, uncertainty and wariness in expressive blue eyes, before a pink tongue darting out to wet perfect lips derailed his thoughts completely. 

 

_Masamune help me._

 

This was embarrassing. He was the General, the most feared warrior in the world. And one tiny little cadet from a backwater mountain town was making him behave like a hormonal teenage boy with his childhood crush. He focused with an effort, saw the flush had risen again to pale cheeks and wondered if he should throw himself into the wall of the training room. 

 

“I…I’m not sure,” Cloud’s voice was soft and a little hoarse, straining when Sephiroth pierced his skin again with the needle. “I saw the man," he cut off as a gasp escaped his lips, continuing once he’d regained control, “well, one of the men in the slums of Sector 8.” Sephiroth’s eyebrows raised a little at that piece of information - was it just a coincidence? - even as Cloud continued, eyes closing briefly and gritting his teeth slightly against the pain of the stitches. “I don’t know why I followed him, but I just…felt like it?” that last part was almost unintelligible, the blond’s voice dropping in volume until it became nothing more than a small, hesitant query. 

 

Sephiroth supposed his earlier assumption had been right. The boy had been drunk and followed out of curiosity - though clearly there had to have been something to make the cadet notice the clone in the middle of the over populated slums, something to make him want to follow a random stranger. Sephiroth suspected it was instincts - the same kind of battle instincts Cloud had demonstrated again and again in Battle Sims and in Sword Training (and, if Zack were to be believed, in Private Training); the same kind of instincts Sephiroth, Zack and almost every SOLDIER and Turk had. 

 

But how could a fifteen year old boy from a tiny town in the middle of nowhere have such instincts? Be able to hold his own in the dark against a genetically enhanced clone of a rogue super soldier, keep fighting through the pain that such a small body had somehow endured? He hadn’t spotted any old scars on Cloud’s arms or torso - which meant that this was likely the first time the blond had received such a severe injury, so his body would have gone into shock as it tried to process the entirely new experience - but he’d been secretly relieved to note that he also hadn’t spotted any of the tell-tale signs of bondage or ‘leisure activities’.

 

He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Cloud’s extracurricular program when he was treating his injuries. He’d clearly been spending too much time with Zack, and had spent too long without relief. 

 

Sephiroth forced himself to focus on continuing his ministrations, assessing the information he had once again. Cloud had good instincts, seemed adept at infiltration and battle and leading a team, was somewhat able to hold his own against genetically-enhanced fighters, had incredible will-power and resilience. But the questions remained: the blond had never demonstrated any of these traits or abilities during the first few months of the cadet program, and his young body showed no outward signs of past physical trauma. 

 

Unless…

 

He jerked the needle harder than he’d intended at the sudden thought, heard Cloud cry out softly and instantly stilled, apologizing immediately even as his other hand patted Cloud’s chest and clavicle while Sephiroth continued to murmur comfortingly. Baby blue eyes were glassy, even as the blond nodded and tried to smile while biting the inside of his luscious bottom lip. Sephiroth wanted to throw himself into a wall badly. He’d never intended to hurt Cloud - had just been infuriated by the thought that had seized him he’d reacted outwardly in a spectacular breach of self-control. He returned to stitching the wound and cleaning the blood that came from it naturally and as a result of his harsh yank, forcing himself to be gentle even as his thoughts continued on their line of reasoning. 

 

What if Cloud had been abused sexually? That would explain the lack of external scars, the penchant for ‘getting jiggy’ with multiple partners, for the bondage and the rough treatment. Sephiroth had read that victims of sexual assault - particularly childhood sexual assault - could display hypersexualized behavior. But that didn’t seem like Cloud - if anything, the taller blond in the little circle of cadets appeared far more lewd, while Cloud himself was more aloof and quiet, carrying himself the way a survivor would.

 

A survivor was exactly the term he’d use to describe Cloud, actually.

 

Yet, if Cloud had survived such torment, why was he willing to subject himself to bondage at the hands of the ones he deemed his friends? Was it because they were his friends? Did he believe this was the only way to behave with close friends? 

 

It didn’t seem to align with the boy’s intelligence and apparent maturity - surely someone like Cloud would know better than _that_ \- but the only other explanation was that the blond had gotten over his past trauma, and was now simply enjoying the physical aspects of friendship with benefits. 

 

Sephiroth wasn’t sure how he felt about that. But then he considered the fact that the lack of tell-tale marks meant that the blond had clearly not indulged in bondage or rough sex this weekend and the previous weekend. Zack had made a point of mentioning that Cloud only ever seemed to ‘get it on’ over Friday nights and Saturday nights, which meant that since they’d watched TV at Zack’s, Cloud hadn’t gotten physical with those friends of his. 

 

A small part of him seemed to warm at that thought - the _hope_ that maybe Cloud had held back for... 

 

_Don’t be ridiculous._

 

Perhaps Cloud had just taken it easy the past weekend. Perhaps Cloud had lost interest in those friends of his. 

 

_Stop acting like you’re the hero of the story._

 

That voice, so very Genesis and yet so ironic that it should sound like Genesis, flushed the warm feeling away with cold putridity. Unbidden, the names of every man who’d fallen under his command ran through his mind, the faces of every fallen SOLDIER a vivid montage, that bereft young woman sobbing brokenly over her fiancé’s corpse, the memory of his friends leaving him, the way he’d felt every time he’d failed assailing him and leaving him disoriented when coupled with his exhaustion and the worry over the future, the sound of Cloud crying out in the dark and the sight of a sword piercing through his chest…

 

A soft hand on his cheek startled him back to the present and he jerked slightly, eyes widening and refocusing on baby blue eyes looking at him worriedly, dimly registering a soft, sweet voice asking him if he was alright. 

 

Zack was the only other person around anymore to show him such heartfelt concern. 

 

He struggled to control himself, torn between wanting to brush that hand away and pull himself together, and wanting to hold onto a small body and bury his face in soft blond hair. Eventually he managed to squeeze out an “I’m fine”, wanting to frown at how hoarse it sounded. He cleared his throat, noted that Cloud hadn’t pulled his hand away yet, tried to ignore the feeling of soft fingertips yet simultaneously trying to catalogue every sensation. As the blond appeared to realize what he was doing, flushing and pulling away, Sephiroth surprised both of them by gripping a small hand and holding it in his. He looked at where their hands were clasped - both equally pale, his much larger and engulfing Cloud’s entirely, marvelled at the softness of skin and the slight callouses on palms that belied the blond's training. Just as he realized what he was doing - holding hands with a cadet, who was injured and drunk - and made to pull away, Cloud surprised them both this time by holding on, squeezing Sephiroth’s thumb and staring into his eyes, flushing as prettily as ever but eyes more determined and old and wise than Sephiroth had ever seen them.

 

“You’re not alone, Sephiroth.”

 

Four simple words, three if he removed his name from the equation, and yet the power and impact they had on him was beyond what he could have anticipated. 

 

Somehow Cloud had hit the nail on the head perfectly, had shot past all the justifications and perfect logic Sephiroth used to tell himself why he had to do more than everyone else, why he couldn’t burden anyone else, why he had to keep going and be better than everyone else so that he could protect them, so that he could be the one to stop the War and bring peace just like the media and Shinra and SOLDIERs and civilians said he would. Between being born in the labs - told since birth that he was unique, that he alone would usher in a new era with his skills - and all the verbal and visual and experiential reinforcements of how very different he was from everyone else, how very different he was even from Genesis and Angeal, he’d somehow started to believe he was one of a kind, a legend, someone more myth than man, forever standing apart from the crowd, responsible for reshaping the world and bringing an end to suffering. 

 

And Cloud had somehow pierced through all the hubris, all the dark thoughts that had fed his rationale and reasoning for why he had to keep as many people out of harm’s way as possible, for why he had to take on the world alone, for why he preferred to be left on his own with his beloved solitude. 

 

A single touch, and four simple words - that was all it took one very captivating cadet with the gaze of a tired old warrior, and the heart of an innocent, small-town boy.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the most beautiful blue sky he’d ever seen, wondering if this was why so many looked to the heavens, but eventually he realized Cloud was shivering slightly, and he needed to cover the boy properly. He squeezed a small hand almost absent-mindedly, placing it gently on a chest that was more toned that he’d thought possible given the boy’s size, before turning back to the wound. He’d almost finished stitching it, so he set about completing the task quickly, snipping suture when he was done and tying a surgical knot. He picked up another piece of gauze, dabbed lightly at the blood seeping through the stitched wound before he was satisfied. He taped a fresh gauze gently over the stitches, turned to grab the bandages and carefully wrapping them over the wound, over Cloud’s shoulder, adjusting the blond so he could pull the bandage under his upper right back before repeating the cycle again and again until he was certain the bandage would hold and was not too tight. 

 

Fixing it in place, he stood and adjusted Cloud’s right arm so that his right palm was lying on his chest, lifting the boy again to slide a pillow beneath a blond head before pulling back to tuck the throw around thin shoulders carefully, all the while impressed at the cadet for enduring Sephiroth’s attempt at medical treatment drug-free without screaming, crying or passing out. He’d need more blankets to make sure the boy was warm, but this would do for now. Turning, he picked up the bloodstained gauzes and discarded shirt, heading to the kitchen to put them in the garbage disposal unit in the sink, grabbing the bleach he kept in the apartment for such occasions and pouring it down the mouth as he flicked the switch and heard the familiar grinding and whirring. 

 

Once done, he washed his hands, pausing to stare at the fact that he had Cloud’s blood on them. He usually kept his gloves on, even while treating his or Zack’s wounds while out in the field - SOLDIER’s superior immune systems meant their wounds never got infected from dirty hands or gloves - so he couldn’t quite remember when was the last time he’d actually had blood on his hands.

 

Somehow the sight of red on his pale skin, the knowledge that it was Cloud’s, disoriented him again. It seemed familiar, yet he knew he’d never once seen Cloud bleed. Or had he? 

 

Unbidden, images flashed through of Cloud at his feet, glaring up at him; Cloud suspended in the air by Masamune glaring down at him, Cloud...

 

A soft, hoarse voice reached his ears. Someone was calling his name - it took him a few seconds to realize it was Cloud, who was currently ensconced on his sofa. 

 

Shaking his head slightly as though to clear his mind - a bad habit he was starting to pick up from Zack - Sephiroth turned and headed back to the living room, but not before grabbing several bottles of water from the counter. Cloud needed to replace his fluids, and it wouldn’t do to give him cold water right now when his body temperature wasn’t stabilized.

 

He saw how the cadet was looking at him in concern yet struggling to keep his eyes open, smiled slightly to himself at the sight of Cloud blinking owlishly up at him from the expansive sofa, then approached the blond, setting the bottles down on the coffee table next to the First Aid Kit, uncapping one before raising Cloud slightly to help him drink. The boy was definitely thirsty, if the way he consumed the half a liter of fluid was any indication. Setting Cloud back down on the couch, Sephiroth opted to sit perpendicular to the blond, leaning slightly against the sofa even as he cross his long legs. Uncapping his own bottle of water, he took a grateful swallow, liking the way it felt going down his parched throat, before setting it down on the floor and turning back to Cloud. Who was watching him with a small, shy smile, big blue eyes less than half their usual size as weariness and blood loss began to claim the small blond. 

 

Somehow Sephiroth didn’t feel like letting the boy sleep yet, not when he had Cloud’s full attention on him and him alone. 

 

He had the feeling Cloud was of the same mindset, as he watched the myriad expressions flickering through sapphire eyes with fascination, before finally a quiet voice came from those tempting lips. 

 

“Welcome home.” 

 

Again the impact of simple words from the small blond floored him. How did the boy always know exactly what to say to Sephiroth, in order to reach past the self-control and will-power and impassive mask to speak to _him,_ the man, and not the myth? How were his words able to connect so deeply with Sephiroth when they’d only just met recently thanks to Zack’s shenanigans, when Zack had tried for so long and before that Angeal had tried for years to get through to him on such a visceral level?

 

_Welcome home._

 

Had anyone ever said that to him? Had anyone ever once welcomed him home? He couldn’t remember, and he had a perfect memory. 

 

_Home._

 

He’d always seen his apartment as a place he spent time in out of necessity, had always found the duplex penthouse a little too ostentatious for his liking but appreciating the solitude it afforded him, had always felt more comfortable in the chaos of Zack’s place one floor below (not that he’d ever admit it). At first he’d assumed it was because it’d been Angeal’s before his friend had left - he’d been a bit hesitant about spending time in his old friend’s place - yet as soon as he’d stepped through the doorway he’d realized that it was now an apartment that was uniquely Zack’s. And that bouncy dark-haired man had deliberately requested that unit for a reason, had insisted on Sephiroth coming over as soon as he was done redecorating for a reason. While traces of Angeal remained - in the pictures, the Buster Sword in Zack’s room, the pots and pans the burlier SOLDIER had liked to use when experimenting with recipes once in a while, the soft throw rugs and muted tones of some pieces of furniture - Zack had sprayed his larger than life personality and perkiness all over the apartment like paint filled bullets from an MP5. 

 

It wasn’t that Angeal no longer had a place to return to. It was that Zack had made Angeal’s home his, while making it clear that Angeal was welcome back anytime. 

 

That realization had been strangely cathartic for Sephiroth, who hadn’t been able to justify rejecting Zack’s request for that particular apartment but knowing deep inside that he didn’t want anyone else living there but his old friend. He was glad he’d gone ahead and approved it, in the end. Zack had shown him that it was possible to move on, move forward, without ever forgetting what mattered to you in the past. 

 

It was Zack’s home, just as much as it was Angeal’s home in Midgar. 

 

Had Sephiroth ever actually had a home? He’d grown up in the labs, then in the barracks, before landing his own apartment - which grew increasingly larger as he rose through the ranks - and being gifted the enormous duplex penthouse once he’d made General. 

 

What did it mean - to have a home? To be welcomed home?

 

His face must have expressed his emotions, or maybe Cloud sensed them somehow, because the blond smiled, eyes shy yet emboldened by whatever Sephiroth’s outward reaction had been, and the cadet continued. “Thank you for your service, Sephiroth.”

 

Had anyone ever truly thanked him before? Sure, he’d had fans thank him ecstatically, women and men thanking him for an amazing night together, parents thanking him for bringing their children home safe whenever he had walked past mini family reunions in the visitor’s area on base. But to thank him for his…service?

 

What had he done, for his actions to be called service? He was just doing his job, doing what he’d been born and raised to do. Was there ever an element of service, of serving others, present?

 

It was his duty to keep his men safe, to bring them home. It was his responsibility to end the War and bring peace. That was all. ‘Service’ indicated a nobility and selflessness that he didn’t possess.

 

He was a killer, THE greatest killer the world had ever known. Angeal was the one with the sense of justice and honor, Zack was the one who had joined SOLDIER out of a desire to protect others. 

 

Sephiroth had just done as he’d been told to do. If he served anyone, it was the President. 

 

That thought twisted his mouth down in self-loathing, made him clench his fists in his lap. 

 

He heard a slight hiss, felt someone shift, then a small hand was reaching for him hesitantly. He stared at it - so pale, so delicate - followed the line of the arm up towards a pretty face and blue eyes filled with concern and uncertainty, blinked and realized Cloud was trying to reach out to him.

 

_Cloud._

 

The blond didn’t seem the type to lie, to say things he didn’t mean. Why would he thank Sephiroth for his service? Unless the boy didn’t know any better - didn’t know all the horrible things Sephiroth had done in the name of World Peace. 

 

If he knew, what would he say? Would he stay, or would he push him away and call him a monster?

 

“Sephiroth.”

 

The tone was tremulous yet firm, that odd juxtaposition so very Cloud, reminding Sephiroth that the blond might be young and innocent but seemed, at the same time, older and wiser than Sephiroth himself. 

 

Cloud was a survivor. Had likely experienced some terrible things himself, had consistently demonstrated a ruthlessness and cold-blooded efficiency in his actions in Battle Sims and in training. Had killed two clones with ease, and not thrown up, not shut down from the shock.  

 

Cloud knew how to kill, and wasn’t averse to doing it. 

 

He wondered how a fifteen year old hillbilly had somehow gained enough experience to become so adept, so used to taking lives. But more than that he wanted to know - how did Cloud kill, how did Zack and Angeal kill, without ever losing that purity within them? Why did they kill, why did they fight? 

 

“Why do you fight?”

 

He blinked, not realizing he’d asked the question aloud, saw Cloud freeze and drop his hand. Before it could land on the sofa and jar his injury, Sephiroth had clasped it, once again marvelling at the fit despite their difference in sizes, before looking deep into sky blue eyes. He saw the myriad emotions flash through, saw the blond consider his answer properly - seemingly more awake now than he had been earlier - before perfect lips parted. The voice that came forth was more mature than Sephiroth had thought possible, deeper, more melancholy, yet filled with fire and steel in a way Sephiroth wouldn’t have expected from a young cadet. 

 

“Because we have to fight for what we believe in.” Blue eyes held his gaze firmly, unshrinkingly, as though willing his words through telepathically. “Because I want to protect others - their lives, their happiness. Because I want to protect this world, protect all of our futures. Because those who _can_ fight _should_ fight for those who cannot fight for themselves.”

 

From anyone else, it would have sounded almost template. But from the small blond with the soul of a old warrior, a hardened survivor, it seemed to come from deep within his heart, filled with a conviction unlike anything Sephiroth had ever known. 

 

Cloud could do it, he knew. Protect the world, protect everyone within it. Somehow that was a given, a universal law of nature as ironclad as gravity and the fact that the sun rose in the east and set in the west. 

 

He squeezed a small hand, looked down as he considered the boy’s answer. 

 

He recalled feeling the same at times - wanting to fight to protect Zack and his men, wanting to fight so that innocent civilians, incapable of defending themselves against armed soldiers, would be saved. 

 

Did that mean he fought for others and not himself or Shinra, then? Was that what ‘service’ meant? It didn’t seem right - ‘service’ indicated a desire to serve. He was doing what he had to as a leader, as a General. Protecting his men, protecting civilians, that was all part of his job description. He was only doing his job - a job that he was best equipped for, a job that he’d been born for, the only type of job he’d ever known. 

 

He frowned. Was that the only reason why he fought, then? The only reason why he killed? Because it was the only thing he knew how to do?

 

A light squeeze on his hand had him looking up into baby blues that seemed to see right through him. And yet, if they really could, they seemed to like what they saw.

 

“You’re a good person.”

 

He didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever said that to him before. He’d been told he was intelligent, handsome, deadly, brilliant, divine, perfect, Sex on Legs, like an angel, a God of War, and many other superfluous adjectives. 

 

Zack was a good person, not him. Zack cared about everyone he met, made people happy, never stopped fighting for what he believed in no matter how tough things got. 

 

Before he could pile on further justifications for why the statement wasn’t true, his hand was squeezed lightly again and he refocused on a gaze that seemed to know everything that had gone through his mind. He’d found it amusing how Cloud had been speaking aloud earlier while they were en route from the slums. That didn’t mean he found it amusing that he’d been doing the same, if he had. 

 

He wondered at how the blond seemed to know what he was thinking. 

 

“It’s true.” There was that defiant steel again, blue eyes daring him to contradict the small cadet’s statement. He marvelled at the courage of the tiny blond.

 

First Highwind had told him off publicly, now Cloud was challenging him in his own apartment. What was it about blonds from that part of the world? 

 

He smiled humorlessly, looked down at their clasped hands for want of anything else to look at, not comfortable with the force of Cloud’s gaze. It was a new experience for him - usually _he_ was the one intimidating everyone with his stares - just like all the things he felt and thought these days thanks to Cloud.

 

“Good people save lives.” He hadn’t realized he’d said it aloud, attributed it to his exhaustion and the way being near Cloud made his mind and emotions run riot, ascribing his words to the fact that he was really just a twenty-five year old professional killer who didn’t interact with anyone but Zack outside of work. 

 

Cloud squeezed his hand again, but this time he didn’t let up, holding tight and waiting until Sephiroth looked at him again before he spoke. “Just because you’ve killed, just because you’ve lost people, doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.” Something about the blond’s gaze told Sephiroth he was trying to convince himself as well as the silver-haired man. He wondered at that, but didn’t have time to ponder before the blond continued. “It’s tough, and it hurts when we lose our friends. But we have to keep going.” The petite cadet nodded to himself, eyes turned inward and far away. “We have to keep fighting for all the ones who paid the price of freedom.”

 

_The price of freedom._

 

Sephiroth thought about all the men who’d fallen, all the men who would fall in the battles to come. What had they fought for, if not the freedom for others and the world to live in peace, to pursue their dreams and happiness without the threat of war and devastation from assault after assault? 

 

What had they died for, if not for freedom from fear and violence?

 

He looked at Cloud, saw again the worldliness and weariness so at odds with his young face, thought to himself that he’d never seen anything more beautiful that the strength and sorrow in blue eyes, the resilience and torment that shone through from sky blue orbs even as the blond seemed to look at him, through him, beyond him. Those eyes filled his vision, all he could see was the heavens - clear and vast and endless - all he could feel was warm, alcohol-tinged breath, a light touch against his lips…

 

_Ding!_

 

He jerked back, spinning around and rising even as he kept his grip on Cloud’s hand while the other reached for Masamune, then…

 

“Hi guys!” Zack bounded in chirpily, grinning and singing to himself while juggling containers of takeout - so the man _had_ been gallivanting around looking for food - and bottles of booze, as well as discreetly hidden vials of potions, bandages, swabs, and…Sephiroth cocked his head slightly. Yes, that was a clean change of clothes tucked under his arm. He wasn’t going to ask how Zack had managed to sneak in to the cadet bunker and stolen a fresh set of attire for Cloud. He just hoped the black-haired man hadn’t been spotted or caught - he was NOT looking forward to dealing with charges of perversion against his second-in-command. 

 

Then he wished the man _had_ been caught, so he wouldn’t have to endure a knowing, almost leering look aimed at where his hand was still clasped tightly around Cloud’s. No need to look to know that the cadet was blushing, if the blond’s squeak earlier and his sputtering now was any indication. 

 

For all his eloquence just moments ago, it seemed being caught holding hands with the General turned Cloud into a squawking baby chocobo. 

 

He turned back to Cloud, released his hand regretfully but took care to gently place it back on the boy’s chest under the blanket, chancing a glance at a pretty face and feeling almost smug when he saw how red the cadet was, before stepping out of the way as Zack came barreling over, querying and nagging and mollycoddling Cloud at a hundred miles per hour.

 

Sephiroth knew exactly what that barrage felt like, and he didn’t envy the blond. He stepped away, decided to rummage through the containers Zack had brought to see what Cloud could have, piled some of the ‘healthier’ options on a plate (Zack needed to remember that Cloud didn’t have Mako enhancements - and therefore fried chicken and extra spicy Wutaian was _not_ suitable food at a time like this) before walking back towards the sofa. Zack had completed his inspection of Cloud’s wound and torso and head, was tucking the blond in securely even as he continued to tell Cloud how amazing he’d been (if Zack had witnessed it first-hand he’d be raving even more, Sephiroth thought in amusement) and how incredibly stupid he’d been for trying to be a damn hero when he was just a tiny drunk little chicky (Sephiroth noted the affronted look that flashed across a pretty face, wondered if someone would finally punch Zack in the face for talking too much) who shouldn’t be playing with sharp things. 

 

He wondered if he should remind Zack that Cloud wanted to be a SOLDIER, and that all SOLDIERs played with ‘sharp things’. But his attention was drawn to a balisong the First had pulled out of his pocket and was dangling in front of Cloud, saw baby blues widen in recognition and mild horror before the blond tried to struggle out of his cocoon to grab the weapon, hissing at the pain his actions sparked. Instantly he was being shushed by Zack and told off for moving around, pushed gently back into the sofa even while the First set the butterfly knife on the coffee table before grinning and saying “that’s my lil chicky”, patting the blond’s head and looking far too proud at the fact that the blond had a concealed weapon. 

 

Sephiroth wondered if he should remind Zack that weapons - concealed or not - were off-limits to cadets. Then he wondered why he wanted to waste his breath. 

 

He stepped closer, handed the plate off to Zack while reminding him that Cloud needed to up his fluids - the First nodded, setting the plate on the table while helping Cloud sit up - before grabbing a bottle of water. Sephiroth realized it was his bottle, the one he’d been drinking out of, but he supposed Zack had assumed it was Cloud’s. The blond clearly realized the same thing at the same time, face flushing slightly as a sapphire gaze skittered to Sephiroth’s almost shyly, then Zack was making Cloud drink up and the cadet acquiesced obediently. Sephiroth decided to help himself to some food and alcohol, instead of standing there staring at perfect pink lips wrapped around the opening as a graceful neck - exposed more than usual thanks to Cloud tilting his head back - clearly showed the blond was swallowing at intervals. The silver-haired man definitely did not want to think about the fact that he’d almost kissed the blond, had practically jumped on the pretty little cadet just before Zack had bounced in, had wanted to completely devour the boy mind, body and soul. 

 

_Masamune help me._

 

Cloud was still underaged. Regardless of whether the blond was ‘getting jiggy’ with other cadets, Sephiroth was _not_ going to force himself on someone far below him in rank and in years. It was wrong - an abuse of authority and position - possibly similar to whatever abuse the boy had endured before, and he didn’t want to do anything wrong when it came to Cloud. 

 

He picked up the containers and bottles, placed them on the coffee table as he opened a box of his favorite noodles and a bottle of his favorite whisky while settling on to the sofa.

 

Somehow Zack had turned the TV on even while he was feeding Cloud, who was still wrapped in the throw cocoon, and the newscaster was talking about the movie that had just been premiered - the same one that had filled the streets of Sector 8 with people - and how it would be hitting cinemas in a few days. Sephiroth wondered if all the people in the background - the celebrities, reporters, fans - knew just what had happened not too far from them, knew how lucky they were to be alive and unscathed. 

 

_The price of freedom._

 

Sixty-four men had paid that price at Wutai’s gates. The SOLDIERs and grunts injured at Wutai and Rocket Town, the Turks who’d been injured tonight at the reactor, had paid that price in part.  

 

The sofa dipped, and he felt movement. Turning, he saw that beside him Cloud was attempting a remarkable impersonation of a seal as he tried to wriggle away from Zack, who was insisting the blond eat more but laughing at the mutinous expression on a pretty face as pink lips stubbornly clamped shut and blond spikes shook vigorously in refusal. Sephiroth felt his lips quirk up slightly at the display - somewhat similar to what he’d witnessed on Wednesday after Highwind had climbed out of the wreckage - then baby blues were locked on his own glowing green eyes pleadingly, as though Cloud was beseeching Sephiroth to save the little blond from the evil forkful of roast chicken. 

 

He was happy to serve.

 

Setting his empty container on the table, placing his bottle of whisky on the floor, he reached over and pulled Cloud to him - careful not to aggravate the blond’s injury - while giving Zack what he thought was a Look. It clearly hadn’t worked, because the First was just pulling his Cheshire Cat routine and looking for all the world like he wanted to start that godforsaken ‘Spazzing Seal’ routine of his. This time Sephiroth was sure the glare he gave Zack worked, because the dark-haired SOLDIER just chortled to himself before eating the roast chicken piece and rising to grab a bottle of whisky for himself, opening it and flopping back down on the sofa with a pleased groan. 

 

Sephiroth leaned forward slightly to pick his own bottle of whisky up, took a swig and tried to ignore how very comfortable Cloud felt in his arms, warm and soft and fluffy in his little cashmere cocoon. He supposed this was why those stuffed animals he’d seen around town - particularly at Christmas - were so popular. 

 

The news reporter had finished the segment on the movie premiere, was now talking about an upcoming music festival being headlined by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, naming other acts, when Sephiroth felt the weight against his side become heavier. Looking down, he realized that Cloud had fallen asleep tucked in the crook of his arm, exhaustion clear as day on a young face. 

 

“Poor thing’s all gassed out,” Zack said fondly. The First set his bottle down on the table, standing up and taking Sephiroth’s bottle from him as they silently agreed to move Cloud to the bedroom where he’d be more comfortable. Being careful not to jar the small blond, Sephiroth lifted the cadet slowly from the couch, carrying him upstairs to the master room. He stopped by the side of the bed for Zack to remove bloodied shoes and socks, stood watching the way the blond looked while he slept as Zack ran a towel under warm water before coming over to wipe Cloud’s feet and ankles clean. By tacit agreement, they put him in the bed still fully clothed and wrapped in the throw, rearranging the cadet slightly so that his arms were no longer tightly bound to his sides, then tucked him under the duvet before heading back out - Sephiroth removing his cellphone from the safe along the way - keeping the door slightly ajar. 

 

They continued eating and drinking in silence for a while, a sure sign that Zack was completely exhausted physically and mentally, as the TV played music videos of various songs by bands that would be performing at the music festival. When he was finally full, though he did want to continue eating if only for the flavor - SOLDIER rations were far too bland - Sephiroth picked his cellphone up and activated it, feeling his exhaustion return with a vengeance as responsibilities crashed down on his shoulders, virtually pinning him to the couch as email after email, message after message, made itself known upon arrival. 

 

_No rest for the wicked._

 

 _"There's one way out and one way in, back to the beginning,”_ a band sang from the TV.

 

_You’re a good person._

 

He stilled, remembering those words uttered by Cloud not long ago, glanced up towards where the blond in question was deep in slumber, recalling what the blond had said about good people, remembering how he’d felt when the cadet had simply said “welcome home.” 

 

_"There's one way back to home again, to where I feel forgiven.”_

 

A snicker from Zack told him his action had been spotted and he decided to ignore his second-in-command who was clearly ignoring his own duties - simply watching TV and drinking instead of checking his own emails on his cellphone - and focusing on his work. Somehow it didn’t seem as onerous as before. 

 

_"What is this I feel, why is it so real, what am I to say.”_

 

Why were such simple words from the mouth of someone so young yet so worldly able to make such a difference? 

 

_"It's only love, it's only pain."_

 

Why was he constantly feeling so many new emotions - he couldn’t forget the way his nerves had been on edge, his heart was beating faster than usual, earlier when he’d been in the alley heading towards the warehouse. He couldn’t forget the way the rage at seeing Cloud injured had completely blanketed his mind, wiping out all rational thought in his desire to hurt those who had hurt Cloud. He couldn’t forget how the thought of tear-filled baby blues had spurred him on against the Wutaians days ago.

 

_"It's only fear, that run through my veins.”_

 

He didn’t understand it, all of these were foreign to him. He knew Cloud had caused them, but he wasn’t sure what to do about all of it, how to rationalize the emotions - or his loss of control over his emotions - to himself. No matter how exhausted he’d been before, he’d never once lost control, was rumored to have veins filled with ice because of his unflappable cool. Yet here was a small blond cadet agitating him constantly, even when he was thousands of miles away, and even making him intervene publicly in a family argument just to prevent Cloud from losing a friend.

 

 _"_ _It's all the things you can't explain, that make us human."_

 

He didn’t know why, but he really wished he could just toss his phone aside and head upstairs to sleep next to a beautiful blond with eyes that seared into his soul, and words that reached deep into his core. 

 

Zack was rummaging around at the DVD player, flopping back onto the sofa and opening another bottle of whisky as the launch menu of Supernatural flashed on the screen. Selecting an episode, the First settled in, booted feet plonked heavily on the coffee table with a weary sigh.

 

As ’The Road So Far' flashed, the familiar anthem to the show began.

 

_"Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done.”_

 

Sephiroth wondered if it was truly possible.

 

_"Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more."_

 

##

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N 1: The Wutaian dragon-faced rockets/fireworks are ripped off the Disney animated film Mulan (Mulan is a Chinese tale and Wutai resembles Japan - but I couldn’t for the life of me think of what kind of flying ballistic missile Wutai would use against helicopters. Apologies to anyone who’s offended by the cultural mish-mash, though you may notice that I’m squeezing multiple cultures in wherever it fits - also there is a warning at the start of each chapter re cultural appropriation). 
> 
> A/N 2: Cid’s quotes in his Wednesday afternoon POV are from Independence Day: “I picked a helluva time to quit drinkin’” is paraphrased from Casse (a drunk pilot who’s mocked by everyone in town) in the film; “In the words of my generation, UP YOURS!” is word-for-word by Casse in the film; while “I’m a pilot, Will. I belong in the air” is almost word-for-word by President Whitmore in the film. “I don’t want to regret not having done something later” is an actual Cid quote from the FF7 game. Note that Cid has an AK-47 and two M-14s in his "engineering room” in the games, hence the man using guns in this chapter before he gets a spear (source: finalfantasy wikia). 
> 
> A/N 3: Back in Black is a song by AC/DC.  
> 
> A/N 4: The lines about Masamune being an advertisement and not a compensation + average sized dagger are ripped directly off a comment by IA1979, who kindly consented to my request to use it in the fic. I do have a habit of picking up things that are mentioned in reviews and incorporating them in the story where it fits - sometimes these are requests (such as when LifeOfTheMind requested for nipple clamps to be incorporated lol) and sometimes these are random phrases / song lyrics (usually from Risikaa aka BorderlineInsanity) that stick in my head / make me laugh. Just sharing the joy :)
> 
> A/N 5: “Fighting the good fight” in Cloud’s POV during swim training is a direct reference to one of my favorite songs - “Fight the good fight” by Triumph.  
> 
> A/N 6: An M40 is a bolt-action sniper rifle used by the US Marine Corps (source: Wikipedia). An MP5 is a submachine gun used by more Special Forces teams than any other gun in the world (source: Listverse). Remember the balisong / butterfly knife that Cloud got at Mike's in Chapter 3, and that was used in the rather twisted scene at the end of Chapter 6? Ta-da! It finally makes a ‘proper’ appearance.  
> 
> A/N 7: “For A Few Gil More” in Ralph’s POV is a reference to another Eastwood spaghetti western film and part of the Dollars Trilogy. I’ve previously referenced another film from the trilogy - The Good, The Bad and the Ugly - when I referred in a previous chapter to “The Good, The Bad and the Sexy”. “I don’t have friends, I have family” is a quote by Dom Toretto from Furious 7. 
> 
> A/N 8: The mention of Triumph and Kansas in Ray’s POV at the dingy karaoke is another reference to Supernatural: Kansas’ “Carry On, Wayward Son” is the closest thing Supernatural has to a theme song (highly recommended and the lyrics kinda remind me of Cloud and Sephiroth a little, which is why they’re inserted at the end), while Triumph’s “Fight the Good Fight” is used in the show as well (related: A/N 5).  
> 
> A/N 9: ‘Temporarily misplaced’ is a line from the film Prince of Persia used by Jake Gyllenhaal’s character to obliquely inform his older brother that he hadn’t prepared a gift for their father. 
> 
> A/N 10: Reference to “The Price of Freedom” from the Crisis Core OST. I really like that song, and it seems to encapsulate the struggles and sacrifices of Zack and Cloud so well, I’ve been waiting to slot it in. The placement at that particular part of the chapter (when Cloud is speaking to Seph), in this particular part of the fic, is deliberate and another of the story's meta-moments. 
> 
> A/N 11: The song that plays in the background towards the end in Seph’s apartment is Civil Twilight’s ‘Human’.  
> 
> A/N 12: Well, wasn’t Cloud strong, chatty and really forward at the last part of the chapter? *evil grin* And wow, Seph’s really coming into his feelings and opening up, isn’t he? *innocent look* #StayTuned


End file.
